


Last Avenger

by CPT_Rogers



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Marvel Universe, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Superheroes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-05 03:07:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 57,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15854976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CPT_Rogers/pseuds/CPT_Rogers
Summary: “Thanos is revered now in deathmore than he ever was in life.”Last Avenger follows Steve Rogers and Thor as they must reconcile their identity as Avengers with a radical, post-war era.





	1. Disclaimer

The Avengers, associated characters, and Stark Tower are properties of Marvel Comics, Marvel Studios and Disney Co. This work does not necessarily reflect the views, opinions or cannons of Marvel Comics, Marvel Studios and Disney Co.


	2. SPOILER ALERT

This story may contain spoilers for, but not necessarily limited to, Avengers: Infinity War. Reader discretion is advised. 

#thanosdemandsyoursilence


	3. Dedication

To Bubs; this story is just as much yours. 

To my friends for being so supportive and engaged in my first serious foré into fanfiction.


	4. Prologue

New Jersey, 2040

Caleb Ryan couldn't help but remember the weekend he and his two buddies flew down to Texas. An intern had showed someone who showed someone who Caleb had overheard in passing mentioning a new burger joint that had just opened up in Houston that a friend of the intern had tagged her in. Caleb followed the word-of-mouth trail back to the intern, whom he loudly and publicly reprimanded for being on her phone during work hours and then confiscated the device.

Caleb was in his office having lunch and had zoned out into the New York skyline through his panoramic, corner window twenty-two storeys above Manhattan. He suddenly realized he had no idea how long he'd been lost in space as he blinked himself back to Earth. He turned his seat back to his desk and his eye caught the intern's phone next to his keyboard. His mind immediately recalled the burger joint in Houston. He Googled the name and it was one of the first results. The burgers were thick, juicy ground chuck, many oozing with sauces of varying viscosity and flares of colours. The bun crusts flaked a tad revealing the porous, cloud of dough within. Caleb scrolled and scrolled until on autopilot when he made his way over to a travel site to book a trip. Caleb emailed two golfing pals to meet him at JFK at six to make the eight-thirty flight.

They were first in the door at the restaurant at 11 the next morning. His stomach was in stitches of hunger remembering how the burger grease coated his lips and how the flavours of the sauces and the toppings and the tender beef all swam together.

"Ryan!"

Ryan snapped up in his chair as he shook the spell off.

Celeste cocked her head to confirm he was all there.

"I'm trying to talk to you and you've just been staring at that map the entire time," she said, her tone becoming a tad nasally as it did when she scolded someone.

Ryan's leathery, tanned face folded into a scowl. He idly scratched his salt and pepper stubble and glanced at the map crowded with radiating pins of different colours around the eastern seaboard. His eyes fell back on Texas.

"Ryan," Celeste prodded, the acoustics of the mess tent some how sharpening her words.

"Alright! Yes! What!" Ryan snapped at her.

Flustered, Celeste tossed her bouncy, red hair back over her shoulder, de-shrouding one half of her pale, tired face. Her eyes skittered over the command quarters, featuring light standards and rolling corkboards with other maps and papers stuck to them. She neatly pressed her hands out from her on the fold-up buffet table at which the two of them sat.

"I was trying to say that the Atlantic City area is continuing to be a problem," Celeste said.

"How so?" Ryan said, rubbing his face.

Celeste sighed and rested her forehead up against her hand. "Continued violence that does not seem to be letting up. The Army seems to be determined to..." she puttered her lips "...I don't know, clear it out? Maybe take it? It's still not clear."

"Is it spreading?"

"No, but we got word they're making a play for Brigantine."

Ryan caught his face in his palms then wiped them across his cheeks. "Fuck. That'll be a real problem. Guess they're looking to stay." He reclined in his seat with a puff and his heavy eyes wandered back to the map. "We're looking pretty boxed in. What's the word on the rest of the southern front?"

"I actually got in touch with a settlement down Galloway way," Celeste said. "They're saying that...whatever this is...it's making rumblings around Philly."

Ryan pointed himself forward in his chair at Celeste. "Well what is this?"

She shrugged and shook her head. "A movement? A radicalizing of what's left of the U.S. military? I mean..." her words seized.

"It's gaining a following though. It's spreading."

Celeste unwound with a sigh. "Seems that way."

Ryan folded his arms in front of him. "Whatever this is, we gotta protect ourselves. I mean, it's in Atlantic City, so we're already pretty fucked."

A radio on Ryan's desk suddenly crackled to life. "Manhawk, this is Beach Head. Come in." The voice was gruff and gravelly.

Ryan and Celeste looked to each other.

"Manhawk, this is Beach Head, come in! It's important!"

"Seems Harry's rattled about something," Celeste bemused.

Ryan frowned and rose to get the radio. "Beach Head, this is Manhawk, go ahead."

"Manhawk, we gotta DEFCON 1. Unidentified aircraft over Toms River."

Ryan huffed. "Harry, we don't do DEFCON. We do the colours thing. You know, code red...and so on." Ryan paused and gathered himself, Harry's last statement fully wrapping itself around his brain. "Wait, what's this about an aircraft?"

"Came in off the water. Looks like it made a U-ey out to Seaside Heights."

Ryan's face was long in awe. "Holy shit." He blinked out of his trance. "Thanks, Harry." He flicked his way down the dial.

The settlements along Route 9 from Ocean Township up the state to Beachwood began the quick and silent process of taking shelter. The unidentified aircraft had come and gone before anyone knew what they had seen. The settlements' guards had come and shuffled people out of their homes to secure locations: old farm bunkers, barns, community centers – anywhere nondescript or out of sight. The whole while, residents excitedly chattered about how the ship was almost silent as it streaked across the evening sky. No one saw it land, no one saw it return. They just knew it was no military chopper.

Route 9 was suddenly a bustle with trucks and cars as whoever could be spared from the lockdown effort was sent en route to the ship's last known location. Ryan relayed from Harry the ship had been last seen out towards Seaside Heights on the strip the other side of Barnegat Bay towards the ocean. Ari piloted the lead Manahawkin truck, one of four. Their eyes were locked in their default stern glare on the road ahead.

Guarav's eyes were wide as he surveyed the dozen or so tail lights ahead of them on the little two-lane highway. The sun was getting low, the mighty treelines accelerating night's fall.

"Do you think it could be Wakandan?" Guarav said.

Ari glanced at him with a cocked eyebrow. They ran their fingers through their long hair, mopped back in a flow down to the back of their shoulders. "I dunno, man."

"Do you think this is someone who's seen Thanos?" Guarav's eyes flashed and he turned in his seat like a whippet. "Holy shit! Do you think this is an Avenger!?"

"Dude!" Ari snapped. "Enough!"

Guarav shrank back in his seat. "Sorry."

"Look, let's just focus on getting there, alright?"

Guarav nodded.

"Scout, this is Manhawk, sitrep, over," Ryan commanded over the truck's radio.

Ari grabbed the mic off the console. "Manhawk, this is Scout. Coming up on Bayville. About twelve miles out. Over."

"Roger that. Out."

They were swallowed into the remains of the sprawling suburbs of Berkeley and Beachwood. The homes around them had mostly been razed: some had been blown to shards or dissolved away by the elements, others had burned to their bases like overcooked meat with a bite taken out of it. Some of the sideroads showed signs of life, sheet metal gates being the most common sign. Some had been closed, some others were open, funneling out further reinforcements onto the growingly crowded road.

Ari looked to the vehicle up next to them. The cab was filled with three men on a bench seat, all heavyset and shrouded in beards and unkempt hair. In the bucket were younger fighters and the crew's gear.

Two smaller cars with roof racks crammed with weapons and other gear snaked passed on the shoulder. The troops in the buckets of the trucks winced against the dust and rocks kicked up in the cars' wake.

There were trucks at Guarav's window too, similarly filled. His head swiveled with a dirt bike as it whipped by on the grass, the driver with a rifle slung across their back. Its whiny engine was like a mating call as three more swooped past, the similarly armed driver's up on their feet, their bodies bouncing as the bikes did. Guarav turned to Ari and noticed a vein protruding on the side of their head.

"I...I thought this was a search and rescue," Guarav said.

"Yeah, me too," Ari grunted. "Just let me concentrate please."

"Yo, Scout, this is Cub," Ari's radio crackled again. "Seein' a lotta straps out here. Like, we're packing light. Did we miss something?"

Ari loudly snatched the mic up. "Yeah, I can see that! Just stay on my ass, okay?"

"Copy."

The truck's engine kicked and Ari wove their way gradually up through the crowd.

It wasn't long before Ryan and Celeste heard the transmissions from Toms River updating as the convoy rumbled through. Status reports flittered across the air waves tracking the waves of troops moving through. Some was banter between familiar voices, cracking inside jokes. The chatter changed as the convoy followed Route 9 to the center of town then made a right going east on 37, on the last leg to Seaside Heights. Ahead was nothing but black. It was thick, especially as they neared the water.

Ryan noticed in his peripheral Celeste's scowling demeanor. Her face was scrunched, rested on the knuckles of her fist.

"There a problem?" he said.

Celeste's eyes shifted to him then back to the radio. "They're making a lot of noise."

Ryan's focus settled on the radio. The chatter was like a gusty wind between vehicles, and to-and-from settlements.

"Lemme check something," Celeste said, shooting her hand for the dial.

Ryan frowned as Celeste turned the knob on the side of the device. It crackled as she traveled across frequencies, all like foreign roads shrouded in dense fog. But like figures indistinguishable in the haze, voices faintly permeated. Some faded, some grew louder and clearer.

"Gauntlet, X-Ray, code purple in Toms River."

The voices were heavy and bubbled with static, but almost into perfect clarity.

"X-Ray, Gauntlet, roger that. You got the green."

"Roger."

The air was silent. Celeste and Ryan stared at the radio with half-lidded, exhausted eyes.

"Shit," Celeste hissed as she grabbed the mic and fiddled her way back to the convoy chatter. "Scout, this is Manhawk, come in!"

"Scout, this is Manhawk come in!"

Ari grumbled at the stirring radio as they strained their eyes through the truck's headlights against the night and other tail lights.

"Scout, this is Manhawk, come in!"

Ari gruffly sighed. "Guarav, get that!"

Guarav shot to attention and snatched up the mic with vigour but trepidation. "Manhawk, this is Scout – uh – we read you."

"Scout, we're picking up military chatter. Brace for incoming hostiles."

"Fuck!" Ari snapped, then shot out their hand for the mic. "Give me that!"

Guarav plopped the mic in Ari's hand.

"Say again, Manhawk," Ari ordered.

"We're picking up military chatter, believed to be hostiles converging on your area."

"Birds or boots?"

"Unclear right now, but assume birds."

"Fuck! Okay. Out."

One hand on the wheel and eyes checking the road in glances, Ari fiddled with the channel buttons on the radio then armed the mic. "All units responding, this is Scout-Manhawk. Be advised: Manhawk reporting hostile troops on approach."

Ryan's eyes flashed as the radio suddenly sparked with chatter. Ari had barely finished their sentence before settlements or lead vehicles were recalling their troops. Ryan looked to Celeste. Her brow was furrowed as she stared at the radio, as if watching the event.

Ari's foot deftly danced between the gas and the break, their hands kissed the wheel dodging other vehicles' sudden brake lights and U-turns.

Celeste swiveled to Ryan. "We should call ours back as well."

Ryan looked at her with derisive amusement. "Are you nuts? This might be a Wakandan aircraft! Maybe even Avengers! We're not letting the fucking U.S. Army take that from us!"

"What does it matter?"

"It matters if we want to survive the coming years. Things haven't been right since people turned to fucking ash, especially with the military." He fully turned to her in his seat. "It's all around us."

A coolness settled over Celeste like a morning dew. She looked to Ryan.

"Manhawk, this is Scout. Convoy's breaking off, we're gonna do the same."

Ryan grabbed the mic in a split reaction. "Negative, Scout! Hold course!"

"What the fu–say again?"

"You heard me, Scout, hold course, that's an order!"

Ari's face quietly soured. "Copy that." They slammed the mic back into its holster. They could feel Guarav's puppy-dog look in their peripheral.

"This is going to be a meatgrinder," he said, staring forlornly through the windshield.

"Yup," Ari flatly replied.

"Scout, this is Cub, we not buggin' out?"

Ari sighed and grabbed the mic. "Negative."

Cub paused briefly. "They know the U.S. fuckin' Army is coming after whatever this thing is, right?"

"Yup, but our orders are the same."

"Shit, alright, roger that."

Ari let the mic fall next to them in the console cup holder.

The night over Seaside Heights was nearly impregnable. The ocean and the dark were one, flooding everything and turning it to nothing. The ocean had filled in the shores and a few streets. They got off 37 and headed south on 35. The buildings that still stood rotted from the inside out in the town-come-swamp. The streets were a slalom of debris that the tide had carried in: rusted shells of dingies, buoys, wood debris of docks, rocks, remnants of homes and shops.

Guarav rolled his window down as they crawled toward the south end of the town. Save for sigh of the ocean a block east, just the other side of the ruins, the town was silent. The only movement was the small Manahawkin convoy weaving its way out of Seaside Heights into the moist underbrush of Shore Road. As they continued to track south, the trees built up around them, absorbing the breaths of the waves.

Ari felt the tremors in their hands and their stomach ready to leap up out their throat. They sighed and reached for their radio. "Manhawk, this is Scout. We're southbound on Shore Road outside of Seaside. Should be coming up on the landing site any minute now."

"Roger that, Scout," Celeste replied. "Any sign of hostiles?"

"Negative," Ari replied, their eyes skipping over their mirrors. "All seems quiet."

"Roger. Continue your search."

"Copy." They flicked channels on their radio. "Cub, this is Scout. Any sign of the Army?"

"Negative, Scout, we good."

"Okay, roger that."

They set the mic back on the dash and refocused on the road. Their eyes were jittery, flickering across the road and into the treelines. The road appeared stuck in an infinite loop of trees and brush with no end in sight, the headlights only giving them a few hundred yards of sight.

"You seem tense," Guarav said, his tone of gentle concern.

Ari flexed their jaw, adjusting their posture.

"You alright?" Guarav said.

Ari glanced impatiently at Guarav and stretched their neck.

"Is this about the Army?" Guarav said.

"I couldn't give two shits about some dick-measuring boy scouts," Ari growled.

Guarav recoiled.

Ari sighed and recentered themselves in their seat. "It's this ship. What if it's Wakandan?"

"Well, what then?"

Ari scowled. "What do you mean 'well, what then?' Wakanda was the last place anybody saw the Avengers!" They whipped their head to Guarav for a reaction, but he appeared unphased.

"You think the Avengers would come to Seaside?" Guarav said, his voice fraught with flat disbelief.

Ari scrunched their face, eyeing Guarav in their peripherals. "Maybe not all. But some. Some of them were American."

"But they'd be, like, probably pretty old by now. If they're even alive."

Ari stewed. "'Kay, well, whoever was on that ship was enough to light a fire under the Army's collective ass."

Guarav's brow tented as he looked out the windshield into the ever-repeating scenery. His face suddenly exploded in terror. "OH, SHIT, LOOK OUT!"

Like a tidal wave, the headlights suddenly washed over two large figures standing in the road. Ari's foot stomped the brake and they threw the wheel hard left. The air was shredded with the squealing tires of the four trucks as all drivers desperately tried to avoid a collision. Ari's truck swooped off the road out the other side of a ditch into the underbrush of the treeline. The truck came down on two wheels and skidded over on its side, gratingly carving a rut through the forest floor. The truck ground to a halt, the passenger side embedded in the dirt. The forest rumbled with an explosive crash and a squeaking snap elsewhere among the trees.

Ari blinked themselves out of a daze and into the throbbing ache of their head. Their joints felt cramped and taught, but all seemed to be okay upon wiggling their appendages.

Voices from the road, coated in the fuzz and haze of the distance and the crash, drifted to Ari's ears.

"Stay where you are!"

"Keep your hands where we can see them!"

"Someone radio Manahawkin!"

Ari tried to move but couldn't get a grip. Their weight shifted with something spongy underneath. A grunt arose and Ari's head snapped down, realizing they were currently squishing Guarav between themselves and the ground.

"Fuck, dude," Ari gasped, attempting to clammer their way between the seats, "are you alright?"

Guarav faintly groaned as he shifted, his eyelids shut in a flutter. Ari managed to squeeze their way to backseats of the truck then got themselves reoriented to the front.

"Guarav!" Ari commanded.

"Yeah, yeah, I think I'm good," he said with a strain.

Ari poked their head into the cockpit to take full account of Guarav's state. He was scrunched up against the back of the seat and his legs were wedged up on the dash under the windshield.

"Well, you're looking real stuck," Ari stated.

Guarav winced. "I'm afraid to look."

"Just sit tight, dude."

"'Cause I was really about to just make a break for it," Guarav muttered to himself.

Ari got themselves between the seats on their side, resting their buttocks against the upturned console for leverage. They pressed on the backs of the seat, their hands anchors like they were a crane prepping to swing a wrecking ball. They curled into a ball, their legs up to their core. They took a breath and fired their feet, heel first into the windshield. Her ankles rattled with the impact and a dull pain reverberated across their feet. They reeled their legs back in and then fired again. The windshield trembled. They reloaded and fired again and a crack formed. They wound up and sprung their legs again. The ambience of the outside whisked into full clarity in the cabin as the windshield dislodged.

"Almost got it," Ari grunted through breaths as they brought their legs back in.

The voices of the other trucks echoing through the darkness of the road stabbed at any silence they hoped to hang onto in that moment.

"I can't get a signal!"

"Yo shit where the fuck Cub?"

A cool, baritone voice pierced the panic, though the words incomprehensible at Ari's distance.

"Did they say no signal?" Guarav grunted.

Ari was frozen about to fire, their face deadpan. "Yup."

"The Army?"

"Probably."

"Well, are you gonna get me outta here?!"

Ari sighed with a frustrated swivel of their head. "I'm fuckin' trying, dude!"

They rebraced themselves then fired with an aching scream. Their heels smashed the windshield with a crunch and an acrid, gravelly tear. It was visibly apart from the frame on the upturned driver's side.

"Fuck yes! We gettin' there!" Ari cheered.

From there it was rapid, flat kicks at the point which the windshield bent, their calves and quads flexing and swelling as they pushed. The weatherproofing whined and scraped as it was forced from its lodging until it eventually popped off into the grass.

"Oh thank god!" Guarav loudly sighed in relief. He slid out through the window frame and collapsed on his stomach in the grass with a moan.

"You're welcome," Ari said, landing in the grass next to him.

Guarav looked from their feet planted next to his face, up to Ari's smug face and their outstretched hand. He clasped their wrist, they grasping his and hoisted him to his feet. He stumbled once upright, grappling to Ari for support. They adjusted him, getting his arm over and around their shoulders and planting their arm around his waist. Ari walked the two of them back over the brush towards the highway.

"Scout! Scout!"

"Ari!"

"We're over here!" Ari called out, holding in place.

Their ears tracked the crinkling of the plants under boots as their squad combed the forest.

"You alright?"

"Save for some sleepy legs, we're Gucci!"

The whispers of movement ceased. There was no response. The forest was silent. Ari's face dropped at the sudden solitary stillness.

"Wait what?" finally came a voice echoing off the trunks.

"We-uh we're good!" They looked to Guarav whose face was as perplexed as they expected. "Something I heard Ryan say once."

"Wha-?"

"I dunno, but it just kinda rolls off the tongue."

Seconds later, two large, burly men, made larger from the gear they were carrying, brandishing their rifles and wide-eyed emerged from the brush.

"We found 'em!" one shouted out into the forest.

They both looked to Ari with semblance of relief. "Good to see you're alright, sarge."

Ari smiled.

"Yo, guys, we found Cub! We need the medic!" came a frantic call.

"Shit," Ari hissed. "Looks like you're up, Guarav."

The four hurried through the brush, the men up front patting down the brush to clear a path. Ari swung Guarav onto their back, furiously trying to keep pace. The men had a call-and-response going with the others at the Cub position to maintain course.

They broke through dense overgrowth of long-stemmed, large-leafed plants and grass to behold the carnage. The remaining crews stood in awe around what was left of Cub. The truck had been folded like an accordion from the hood back, wrapped around a tree. The force of the impact had snapped the trunk, the tree collapsing back on the truck compressing the roof down into the cabin, leaving but a tiny slit where the windshield would have been. The scene was inset within a field of glass shards and wood chips. The group turned to the four approaching with solemn faces. A woman tenuously gestured beyond the scene. Ari set Guarav down and followed the woman's direction ahead of the truck. They came to the ridge of an embankment down towards the beach. Ari snapped a hand to their face seeing the first body at the bottom of the crest face down in the sand. Their eyes followed the trajectory of the bits of the truck that had made it this far to find the second body squished against a low rock breakwall.

A pair of uneven, tender steps came to rest next to them.

"The one at the rocks is definitely gone," Guarav whispered. "I'll see to the one in the sand."

Ari nodded rapidly, anything to shoo the conversation away. They whirled around back to the group. "Someone go with him!"

The woman who had directed them jogged over and helped Guarav down to the beach. Ari swallowed and turned back to the wreck. As they approached the tree and truck, their eyes were compelled to the break in the trunk where the truck was jammed. They noticed the discolouration, something messy, something spilling out from underneath the fallen trunk. They peered as they walked passed and immediately winced away, seeing what was left of a third body splattered under the weight and force of the tree against the truck. What had caught their eye were the fingers on a hand, likely all that was left intact. What had spilled out over the hood around the trunk was the fluid squeezed out like a juiced orange. They held a scrunched hand up between their mouth and nostrils on their sour, pained face.

Ari grouped with the rest of the squad and joined the silence under breaths of wind and waves rolling off the beach. Most anyone could muster was a headshake or a sigh. They scanned over the group, some with hands on their hips, or arms folded across their chests shifting on and off their heels, those with longer hair letting it be blown across their faces. Their eyes came to rest on two men, larger than most of the rest of the group. They were distinct despite their ratty hoodies and the nylon vests they wore over them, one wearing a bulky backpack.

The first man, the man with the backpack, was broad chested and shouldered. He had hair that had at one point been a shade of blonde, but had dirtied to something darker. It was long and swooped back down behind his ears. From behind a salt and pepper beard was a face in a perennial, trained scowl, though somewhat softened by bright, baby blue eyes. He had a rifle slung across his chest and his hands buried in his vest pockets. The second man was impossible to conceal. He was fit and muscular, though of a more slender frame than his compatriot. His hair was short and bright blonde, coming to a messy peak out over his forehead. His beard was of a closer cut, though still unkempt. In his one hand was a crowbar that he rested up against his shoulder.

"You the ones in from Wakanda?" Ari said.

Their eyes snapped to them.

"Yeah, I know," Ari crooned. "Captain Rogers. Thor."

The two men shifted on their feet. The rest of the group looked to Ari.

"Yeah, it's true," they said in endearment that thinly veiled bored sarcasm. "They are who we've been told about. The Avengers."

Steve went to rebut, but Thor held a hand out in front.

"Yes, alright, it's true," Thor said. "We are the Avengers."

"We're what's left," Steve said.

The group turned to Steve and Thor, their faces a mosaic of awe, reverence, adulation, disdain and detestation.

"Look, we get it, alright," Thor addressed them. "Things weren't ideal the way it all happened. But what's it been like...what..." He tilted his posture, looking to Steve, but Steve's stance was a stone wall, his hands tucked to the front waist of his pants. "Like...I dunno...alright, look, seriously, I don't know."

"Twenty years," Ari said.

Thor met Ari's eyes, their face aglow with amusement.

"Twenty years," Thor eagerly repeated as he found a way out of his growing hole, "which, I'm fairly confident is a long time for you all. Right?"

The group was silent, still in their various forms of awe or disgust.

"Okay, well, in any case, that was then, this is now. And right now an army is bearing down upon us, right?"

The group was still silent.

"Really? You can't even just confirm that one teensie-weensie fact?"

Ari sighed heavily. "Yeah, that's right."

Thor gestured in ostensible graciousness at Ari. "Thank you, uh...."

"Ari."

"Ari! Thank you." Thor tapped his crowbar to the ground. There was a bright burst of lightning and the roar of thunder. The crowbar had vanished and at Thor's side was the mighty battle axe Stormbreaker. "So, I vote we focus on the now and not the then. I mean, for your sake really." Thor rested proudly on Stormbreaker's hilt as he watched his words sink into each member of the group and drudge up their better judgement.

Steve lifted his rifle. "Thor's right. We can make use of the forest for cover and set up an ambush. We're not many, but we play our cards right we can bleed 'em dry and disorient them, force them into retreat."

"I can't speak for their air force," Ari said, "but the only way their ground troops can come from is north. The only mainland connection is back up in Seaside."

The group turned to footsteps approaching from the ditch. Their eyes met the morose faces of Guarav and the soldier. Guarav looked to Ari and shook his head. Ari's lips tightened and their gaze fell to the ground. Thor watched the exchange then his own gaze set on the wreck.

"Has anyone managed to establish a radio signal?" Steve asked one final time of the group.

Each soldier looked from one to another, but all were met with shaking heads.

Steve grimaced. "Alright. Looks like we're on our own here. So let's do this right." He pointed a finger at the truck. "Let's not let these deaths be for nothing. This'll be a marathon, not a sprint."

The group vigorously nodded, one letting loose a "HOORAH!" Steve looked to Thor with an accomplished smirk. Thor rolled his eyes.

"Alright! Let's get into positions!" Ari ordered.

The group hustled off into the trees as Ari came up next to Steve and Thor.

"Didn't know you were a Marine, Rogers," Ari teased.

Steve chuckled and shook his head. "Me neither."

Ari tentatively shared in the chuckle, then jogged ahead with the rest of the group as Thor came up next to Steve.

"That was a great little pep talk about 'those deaths not being for naught and such," Thor said delicately, "but, uh, do you think they'll catch on those guys are dead 'cause we were standing in the middle of a highway at night?"

Steve grimaced with a strained sigh. "Let's hope they don't."

"Yeah, no, absolutely," Thor said. "Just a thought."

Ryan stormed down the tent from the rear quarters. His eyes were heavy and half-lidded. One corner of his lip was curled in such a way to just barely reveal his clenched teeth. The few in the mess area watched the frazzled man as he bore towards the front flaps, his steps heavy and the swing in his arms dramatic.

The flaps burst to one side as Ryan emerged, but Celeste's drag on her cigarette was undisturbed. Ryan stood staring at her, his face granite. Veins bubbled in the side of his head as his eyes followed the smoke trail that plumed out of Celeste's lips.

"Do you know how long it's been!" Ryan snapped.

Celeste tapped the ash off her butt. Her grip slipped and she tapped the cigarette out of her hands. She fumbled for it, but it fell to the grass all the same. She sighed then stretched out her back, her hands on the backs of her hips. "Like, half an hour."

"Yeah, like, half an hour," Ryan mimicked with venom. "AND YOU'RE OUT HERE HAVING A FUCKING CIGARETTE!"

Celeste shuddered a moment. She swiveled her head to Ryan and swished her hair back in one, swift, furious motion. "I am having a fucking cigarette! Why? Because we can't pick up shit and I'm losing my fucking mind in there!" She turned the rest of her body and advanced on the irate man. "And what's more, you fucking zoned out again, Ryan! Where the fuck are you!" She cocked her head, Ryan shrinking back. "Huh? You back in Texas or some shit?"

"Um, excuse me," a voice croaked from behind Ryan.

The two set their weaponized glares on a pudgy, balding man under an equally pudgy jacket peaking out of the tent.

"What is it!" Ryan barked.

"Just...uh, there's something happening on the radio."

Ryan's face turned to ice and he took a step towards the man. "Were you eavesdropping on my–"

"Forget it, Ryan, let's go," Celeste commanded, dragging him by the arm back inside.

They breezed through the mess tent back to the rear quarters where the radio had come alive with the fuzz of chatter just out of reach. Celeste swooped over and grabbed the dial, fiddling it until they found the heavy voices bubbling in the static.

"Gauntlet, Hawk-five, coming in over the strip. We got eyes on Bale."

"Hawk-five, Gauntlet, roger that. Hostiles should be deaf."

"Roger that."

"We gotta find Bale," Ryan said breathlessly, swatting Celeste's hand off the dial.

He scanned the frequency with his ear to the speaker. All that came to meet him was the same static mist, though there appeared to be no one beyond. He slowed his scan, but the mist was still unwavering.

"They're jamming comms," Celeste muttered.

"Yeah, no shit," Ryan growled as he angrily scanned.

It was then a voice broke through the mist. "Roger that, Gauntlet, we're just out of Seaside southbound."

"Roger, Bale, proceed with caution. Hawk just warned of hostiles in the area."

"Copy that."

"Stick with this channel, this must be their ground troops," Celeste said.

Ryan nodded. He reached between his legs and pulled the chair behind him in to sit. Celeste whisked across the room and grabbed her own, joining Ryan at the radio like it was a TV set.

"Bale, Hawk-two, over what looks like a crash site about four miles south of your position."

"Roger, Hawk-two. Any heat?"

"Negative. Seems quiet."

Celeste and Ryan glanced at each other. Ryan hunched over his legs, his fingers tented tight against his lips. Celeste sat stiff, her arms folded across her chest, scrunching her body into itself.

"Gauntlet, Bale, two miles from target, over."

"Roger, Bale."

The radio crackled and fizzed idly. It was occasionally broken by local chatter amongst the Bale platoon.

"Tortoise-two, vehicle check."

"Fuel at seven-five and we're riding smooth."

"Roger, Tortoise-two. Shell-one, vehicle check."

"Fitted and fueled. Treads caught a bit of a deer back in Seaside, but we're not hearing it anymore."

"Roger, Shell-one."

The status reports repeated in monotonous disaffection as Bale proceeded, occasionally broken up with banter. Ryan's leg bounced rapidly, seemingly unbeknownst to either him or Celeste. Celeste still had one arm wrapped over herself while she nibbled the nails of the other hand. Her eyes met Ryan's; the heat of her concern collided with the cold front of his impatience with the situation. The storm that ensued was deep-throated sighs and tensed jaws, turning their gazes away from one another. Both had scolding and rebuttal armed for the other, but neither wanted to fire the first shot.

"Gauntlet, Bale, we've reached the target, code three."

"Sitrep, Bale."

"Confirm evidence of a crash: skids, vehicles. Not seeing anyone around."

"Roger that, Bale. We'll have Hawk in holding."

"Roger, Gauntlet."

The tension between Celeste and Ryan slacked. They gathered themselves out of their posturing.

"What the fuck?" Ryan muttered.

Celeste ran her fingers through her hair, settling back heavily in her seat. "Well, I mean, if they're not there, military can't get them. Could be a misdirection tactic."

"Yeah, but, a crash, Celeste," Ryan argued, hitting heavy on the first and last syllables in her name. "How they fuck did they manage that. It's open road right down the strip."

"Maybe they were trying to avoid something?"

"Like what?"

"Like a fucking animal?" Celeste jabbed.

"Or whatever came off that ship," Ryan grumbled.

Celeste leaned around to face him, her arms folded across her stomach. "Where's all that vigour gone? Thought this was important for our survival?"

"Gauntlet, Bale, code three remaining." The static mist cleared before Ryan could respond.

"Go ahead, Bale."

"Confirmed four trucks, but only found three rebs. All deceased."

"Roger, Bale. Any ID on the dead?"

"Negative."

"Roger. "Confirm COD?"

"Went off the road into a tree. Skids suggest they were trying to avoid something."

"Roger that. Continue your search."

"Copy that. We got eyes on Hawk coming in."

"Roger." The chopping of the rotors swelled in the background before Bale closed communication.

And then silence.

"Shit," Celeste breathed.

"So they actually are AWOL," Ryan said.

"MIA," Celeste corrected, a tad agitated.

"Well, they've gone off the book and we can't get in touch so–"

"GAUNTLET, BALE, MAYDAY! MAYDAY! CODE BLUE!" The voice of the panicking soldier fought helplessly for dominance over din of the torrential battle. The static was peppered with gunshots and ripped to the bone by explosive blasts. "I SAY AGAIN! MAYDAY! CODE BLUE!"

"What the fuck is a code blue!" Ryan bellowed. "Do we know what a code blue is!?"

"Would you shut up!" Celeste barked.

"Bale, Gauntlet, confirm code blue."

"WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU – THOR AND – SHIT" A crash and roar momentarily overpowered the soldier's voice and the rest of the skirmish. "THOR AND ROGERS! HAWK IS DOWN! WE'RE OVERRUN! REQUIRE EVAC!"

"Roger that, Bale, proceed to extraction site."

"WE WON'T MAKE THE FUCKING EXTRACTION SITE!"

"Unacceptable, Bale. Proceed to extraction site."

"GAUNTLET WE'RE DY–" a blast, abrasive and massive crippled the airwaves and entirely shrouded any other noise. The soldier's panic momentarily surfaced in the waves of noise, but was distant and a moment from drowning again. There was a large caliber blast that razed any chatter, and the soldier's cries drowned again. The air on the other end of the radio bubbled and flared into a thunderous cresecendo before the comm went dead.

"Bale, Gauntlet, sitrep."

There was no response. Not even the pop and crash of battle.

"Bale, Gauntlet, respond."

The radio remained silence. Celeste and Ryan had hunched over the table from the edges of their seats.

"Bale, Gauntlet, respond!"

The radio clicked and for a moment Celeste and Ryan were back in the mist, waiting for whoever had just picked up the radio to emerge.

"Nice welcome wagon, boys," a gruff, regal, baritone voice sneered.

"Thor, put that down!" a second, lighter voice came emerged from the background, briefly. The radio cut out.

A second click came through and the static had totally dissipated, leaving Celeste and Ryan to themselves.

"Shit shit shit shit," Celeste hissed as she fumbled back along the frequencies.

"Manhawk, do you read, over," Ari said, their voice proudly emerging on the radio band.

"Scout, this is Manhawk, we read you!" Celeste said. "What's the situation!"

"We won! And picked up some hitchhikers. We're headed back home now. See you in a few hours."

"Roger, Scout. Out."

Celeste let the mic fall on the table with a clatter as she fell back in her chair. She and Ryan unwound in slouches and focused on steadying their breathing. They glanced at each other as their hands clapped in a high-five.

"Told you it was misdirection," Celeste said.


	5. Chapter 5

2069

New York City and Atlantic City were known, at least in part for being tourist destinations. The difference is one is enshrined in lore, post- and pre-war and held to a mythological status securing a place in scripture, while the other, though once superficially captivating is unremarkably profane. Steve and Thor were on their way to the unremarkably profane, which appeared even more hollow in mid-October; the winds were getting colder, the ocean was irate, and the trees were preparing for slumber.

"Alright," Steve said, checking his AR-15 through muscle memory, riding shotgun in the decrepit Ford truck, both men rocked gently in their seats by the truck's rusted suspension, "let's remember, this is a marathon, not a sprint."

Thor looked at Steve. He noticed how Steve's hair and beard, both still full, had accumulated a few more grey hairs than yesterday, or maybe not. Thor thought it could just be his eye, either one.

"I know, Steve, you say it every time," Thor grumbled. "How far are we going?"

Steve slipped the map out from between his legs, the front pre-folded folded to Venice Park.

"Just to the bridge, then we ditch the truck and walk."

"All the way to the Borgata?" Thor groaned.

Steve gave Thor a look. "Yeah."

"Fuck," Thor loudly moaned tossing his head back against the headrest.

"Okay, two things," Steve said, turning his seat. "One, language; two, I think a god can handle a few miles' walk."

"Well, normally, I could just fly in and do some cool hero landing and obliterate bad guys with lightning." A wistful smile washed over Thor's face.

Steve could see the glory days playing like short films in the glaze of Thor's eyes.

"Now, I guess we're just lucky they let us do our own driving," Thor said, his tone blissful with a grating irony.

"Yeah, well, we don't do that anymore," Steve said then looked back to the map. "We gotta keep it tight. The freeway to the hotel is pretty open all the way in."

Thor clenched his jaw and tuned Steve out.

Thor stopped the truck just before the peak of the Absecon Boulevard Bridge. He lethargically killed the engine.

"Hang on," Steve said.

Thor, hand on the door handle paused and turned to him.

Steve pulled his pill bottle out of his jacket. He popped off the lid and sprinkled two tablets into his hands. Thor eyed the bottle as Steve tossed the pills back into his throat.

"How many are left?" Thor asked against his own will.

Steve rattled the bottle eyeing it over. "A couple days probably." He slid it into his jacket and cracked his neck. "Let's move."

The men hopped out of the truck and went around back to the bucket to collect their gear. Steve's movements of getting his vest and pack on, loading his weapon, and testing his sights were tight and eager. Thor's movements were bumbling as he fidgeted with how his jacket's shoulders fit, and checking the sights on his own rifle just enough for Steve to know he did it.

The sky was largely overcast in the late morning. It had been threatening to rain for the past few days, but all that happened was biting breezes, yet still the Earth felt moist. Summer had burned itself out and winter was quickly becoming top of mind. The structures still standing had developed moisture lines along their seems, similar to the few oxidized jetliner fuselages jutting out of the city's profile. As they walked, Thor scowled against the westward wind off the ocean nipping at his face. A growl escaped under his breath. Steve eyed him.

Thor caught Steve's gaze in his peripherals and met his look, but with a start at Steve's face wrap.

"Thor," Steve snapped.

"What? Good graci- you look horrid with that thing on your face."

"Put it on, Thor."

Thor went to rebut, but Steve's bulwark stare forced Thor to comply.

"Why must we wear these?" Thor said.

"So we're not recognized."

Thor sighed in exasperation. "We've lived an hour and a half from New York for thirty years." His hands wildly gestured at his side, accompanying scrunched look of condescension on his face. "Why don't we just move."

Steve's scowl narrowed, the wrinkles in his face deep and black. "Put it on, Thor."

Thor sighed and raised his face wrap up over his nose. "The one time they let us drive and you still insist we walk."

Venice Park, coming across the water ways severing it from Atlantic City-proper, was largely flattened. The river veins out of the ocean were reflected the grey skies, but with an off-brown tinge from the scatterings of commercial airliners and the sparse few organic remains. Across the water in the city, a few homes still stood, but were mostly just plywood skeletons. The road was flaked and upset, but the bridges had held. The Absecon bridge stood only in part though; some of the supports had fallen away, either from war or from the elements and took some of the road with it. Walking wasn't a problem, but a vehicle would have been treacherous.

They followed the westbound on-ramp off Absecon onto Huron Avenue, hugging the concrete barriers for cover. Once the ramp set down on the northbound freeway, the concrete barriers were mostly gone and the corridor was essentially open field. The Borgata, the Golden Nugget and Harrah's played sentry over the surrounding land and over each other, ghosts that the wind whistled through.

They managed to dodge off Huron in short order through a coniferous treeline rimming the Borgata property. They scaled their way up through the brittle brush of what was once a bountiful garden and across Borgata Way to a courtyard just the other side of a low iron fence. Right out front were a sporadic collection of filthy and tattered tarps and tents. A few faces caked with dirt and other markings of the unforgiving outdoors poked out from the encampments as Steve and Thor marched to the doors. They kept their gazes anywhere but the faces of those watching them. Steve always kept one or more in his peripheral, just in case.

The people inside did not appear to be in much better shape than those outside. Their eyes tracked Steve and Thor as they stepped through, captured in the shock and awe of these massive, armed strangers. The foyer was in similar condition as its inhabitants: the tiles were warped and brittle, making an acrid scrape if one was to drag their feet along it. It was organized somewhat like a market, characterized by what once appeared to be storefronts. A Starbucks sign had fallen to the ground, its branded light encasement cracked and the colour mostly faded.

Steve stopped in his tracks, staring distantly at the sign. "You know, out off the all crazy stuff I came outta the ice to, I think that was one of the craziest."

"What, signs that lit up?" Thor said.

"No, gourmet coffee. Didn't even think that was possible. But damn do I miss it."

Thor nodded, humouring him. Steve smiled curtly then nodded for them to proceed.

"Watch your head," Steve remarked, pointing up at the few remaining light fixtures dangling out of the ceiling.

"Watch your step," Thor replied, nodding at those that had already fallen and shattered.

Steve screened every inch of the mall through the sights of his rifle. His steps were tight and his posture was small. Thor strolled at Steve's side, absently hanging his rifle off his one hand. It swung limply with Thor's momentum as the god strode. The barrel grazed Steve's arm. He whipped his head to Thor, seeing the rifle carried on just a few fingers. He stopped and straightened up like a Drill Sargent, waiting for Thor to notice. He soon did and he slowed to a stop. With an arrogant swagger he turned back to Steve. Steve's austere expression deepened. He ostensibly jostled his rifle in its rigid rest position across his torso. Thor impishly mimicked Steve's expression, and his rigidity as he adopted the rifle position that was insisted. He then pivoted and continued to mock Steve in his semi-exaggerated march.

The further they progressed into the market, the filthier the air became. Dust caked just about any flat surface. They kept having to abandon stores as more dust would be disturbed and added to the mix as things were moved. Thor winced at the toll the dust was taking on Steve's lungs, hearing his hacking, choking coughs. After each cough, Steve would take a second to realign his eye with his weapon, fighting frustrated curse words out of his mind.

"Do you wanna turn back there, buddy?" Thor said after a third stop, trying but failing to quell any condescension in his voice.

"No, no," Steve wheezed, doubling over. He straightened up. "No, let's press on."

"Your call, Cap," Thor said passive aggressively.

Steve grimaced and marched briskly ahead.

The next store they went straight to the employee room in the back. The room was small and still dusty, though lesser so as some of the wall had crumbled away, exposing the room to the outdoors. There was no first aid kit, but the men rummaged through a number of cabinets and in desk drawers, looking for any kind of substitute.

"Anything?" Steve said, resting against the wall to catch a taste of fresh air without being obvious.

Thor shook his head, standing up from looking through the bottom of a locker. "Nope." He looked over as Steve slid off his face wrap. He was standing with a slight hunch and his arm over his stomach, his rifle dangling out of his other hand. "Little winded there, grandpa?"

Steve shrugged and chuckled with a goofy nod. His smile unwound passed Thor out into the store towards the front of the floor. He vacantly slung his rifle across his back.

"What?" Thor said, turning his head in a stutter.

A group of four children had collected at the store entrance, cloaked in filthy, frayed rags. Their stance was restless, but their eyes never left the two men.

Thor huffed dismissively and continued to investigate the room. Steve, on instinct, stumbled out into the store. Once he got close, one of the children made an unintelligible noise and all but one bolted back down the corridor. The remaining boy's eyes lit up as Steve knelt in front of him.

"Hi there," Steve greeted with a warm smile.

The boy was silent. His eyes were wide and a smile nearly broke his face, but it just didn't have the room to breathe.

"Steve!" Thor called, marching out towards them.

Steve got to his feet and turned to Thor.

The boy immediately took off, Steve turning back to look after the trailing sound of hurried, tiny steps.

"Let's keep moving," Thor said, "there's nothing in this one."

Steve nodded vacantly to his friend and the two advanced deeper into the mall.

The cobwebs had become more frequent and dense and there was a palpable dank smell. The ceiling tiles were warped and darkened with evident water damage, some even leaking in steady streams. Some store fronts had sleeping bags laid out and food packaging scattered about, though no one to claim ownership.

"You know," Thor said, his head swivelling about. "It looks like no one's coming back for any of this."

Steve looked at another sleeping bag tucked into an indent in the wall with an open box of crackers atop it. Crumbs collected in the valleys of the fabric.

He sighed and shook his head. "No, Thor, it wouldn't be right. Plus, they don't have what we're here for."

"Gotta be aspirin or something," Thor said.

"We have aspirin, but it's not enough."

Thor sighed in exasperation.

They retreated once nearing the end of the corridor, a combination of air that was barely breathable and a distended ceiling threatening to give at any moment warding them back. They re-emerged back in the foyer soon after to find the room's tents and kiosks abandoned.

Steve's snagged movement. He looked up to the doors to see the last few stragglers scrambling out the door, their hastily fastened sacks leaking scrap.

"Hey!" Steve called after them.

They bolted into pursuit, quickly gaining ground on the civilians. The people darted right, down the road off the freeway, scrambling for a large parking structure about a quarter mile out. The building set against the overcast sky appeared like a husk encasing a void, swallowing up the people into some other dimension away from harm. Conceding they had lost the chase, Steve and Thor came to a stomping halt.

"Did we do that?" Steve said panting, him and Thor squinting against a sudden pick-up in the wind.

Thor slyly looked to Steve. "What'd you say to those kids?"

Steve's gaze was disdainful with words on the tip of his tongue. His face quickly changed as the wind whipped up against him. "Did the wind just change?"

Thor adjusted his stance to concentrate on the air over his skin. "Uh, I don't know, maybe?"

Steve looked across the plains of the former city. "It was coming west off the ocean. But..." He turned around to the north to see two black choppers careening low in over the harbour across the freeway.

"Son of a bitch," Steve muttered.

Thor followed Steve's gaze out to the inbound birds. They were small and nimble, probably only with two or four seats.

"Buzzards," Steve said.

"Gennisians," Thor growled as the choppers closed on the freeway.

The skies growled low, the clouds rattling with encroaching thunder. Steve looked up as the clouds went from a tepid grey to a summer storm black.

"Thor!" Steve scolded.

The choppers crossed the freeway, coming up over the hill to the courtyard. The pilots were now visible, as were the two operatives perched per landing skid. The sky cracked and the choppers were sliced out of the sky in bursts of sparks and flames like fireworks. Steve and Thor dove apart as a chopper plunged straight into the road in a harsh din, a tsunami of dirt and rocks barreling into the hotel. The second went into a tailspin right into the roof of the foyer of the hotel, culminating in a mushrooming cloud of smoke and dust.

"Thor!" Steve screamed, enraged, picking himself up.

"We have to move," Thor stated, on his feet off down the garden hill to the freeway.

They bounded through the brush nipping at their ankles and shins trying to tangle their feet. They flailed and skipped over the soil and leaped down onto the pavement.

"This way!" Steve ordered, leading them farther north to an interchange overpass.

Steve's sprint down the open road felt harder and heavier with no frame of reference of his speed. He fought to keep steady breaths as his legs hauled his body at their max speed. Thor was generously a hair ahead of Steve like he didn't know how to go slower. His breaths were almost undistinguishable from a brisk walk.

They reached the concrete wall of the overpass as a trio of trucks came to perch atop the bridge. Steve stumbled into position, his breathing laboured. Thor got into a ready stance, a hand cocked, the skies crackling.

"Thor, no!" Steve hissed, grabbing his arm. "I've been quite clear."

"We would have died, and they know who we are," Thor said, relinquishing. "I mean, why send choppers in the first place."

Steve grimaced. He whirled back a step and laid down suppressing fire up to the road, keeping the gunmen at bay. Thor begrudgingly grabbed his rifle and provided support. He sprayed his weapon all across the road's edge, eroding their elevation advantage. The gunmen fell back behind their trucks and split off into a pincer. They came around to the precipice on either side of Steve and Thor and rained fire upon the freeway. The two reflexively ducked under the bridge out of sight. Steve tapped Thor's shoulder. Hugging the support wall, he lead them to the other side of the bridge.

Steve lead the charge up a dirt hill of frayed tufts of grass and brush. As they crested, he fired punching bursts through the gunmen at the first truck. Blood and fabric blasted and pasted itself over the truck's black paint.

"Okay, move!" Steve barked.

They rushed the truck under a hail of bullets, ducking behind the bucket for cover.

Six guns were trained upon them, the chassis of the truck rocking and bouncing under the barrage of bullets. Smoke and dust swept along the road as the tires burst. Thor and Steve popped back out and returned fire, smashing out the windows on a truck, shards of glass bursting across the road and over some of the gunmen. In the split second of relief as the gunmen regrouped, Steve's eyes caught one of the bodies. In a pocket on the belt of a dead man, a grenade peaked out.

"Cover me!" Steve ordered.

Before Thor could react, Steve ducked around the truck and darted onto the bridge. Once in range, he dove at the body, grabbing the grenade as he landed in a somersault. He got to his face with a bit of struggle; his body was defying him for his stunt. He strafed low back down the side of the truck, chased by the pounding of incoming fire on the truck's body. Steve pulled the pin, clenching his jaw as he rolled the grenade about in his palms for a second or two. He lobbed it in a low arc down the road at one of the remaining trucks. He rushed around behind the truck and pulled Thor down.

The vehicle lurched back, knocking them to the ground under the combined shockwave of the grenade and an enemy vehicle erupting in plumes of flames. The explosion fizzled out to enemy screams that scraped across the road and along the truck to Steve's ears. The settling air was drenched in agony and confusion. Steve's ears rang like bells, his brain the pendulum. He couldn't tell if he was in shock from the blast or if he couldn't handle the screaming for help, the screaming for aid, the screaming to just scream away the pain.

Steve took in a breath, his eyes wide and heavy, his face red. He popped up out from behind the truck and fired off quick, concentrated bursts at those trying to flee.

"Steve!" Thor called. "Steve!"

Steve was unresponsive. He was concentrating on not losing concentration. His eyes were glassy and his cheek was nearly absorbing the rifle's stock.

"Steve, stop!" Thor called. He lunged around the truck and grabbed Steve's shoulder.

Steve immediately lowered the rifle and the two ducked down. He looked to Thor, his eyes on him but he didn't seem to be entirely there.

"Steve, stop," Thor said, cupping Steve's face. "We just need to grab a truck and go."

His brain lagged a beat, but Steve soon nodded in a rapid vibration. They leaped up and sprinted down the road. They dodged past the inferno the one truck had become and skipped over the remains of those living and dead. They reached the last truck. Its bucket was crumpled slightly and the rear gate was gone. They swung open the doors to see the seats inside were sprinkled with glass shards from the rear window.

"Fuck," Thor groaned as the two quickly swept away the glass with their hands. Both men could feel their skin pricked and sliced as they worked.

They wiped their hands clean, blood smearing and drying on their clothes, wincing as they aggravated the wounds. Thor hopped behind the wheel and Steve climbed in the front seat. He was suddenly overcome with a nasty cough as he got his rifle ready. His breaths felt for a moment sharp against his tongue and the back of his throat.

Thor turned the truck around to get on the freeway and headed back south into the city. A fine rain had materialized like a mist, making it almost a fog. The truck drifted across the road back and forth. Steve caught his breath and noticed Thor fiddling around about the steering wheel, then wildly readjusting the truck's position on the road.

"Thor, eyes on the road, what are you doing?" Steve said.

"I can't see out the window!" Thor said, gesturing at the windshield looking as though they were under a waterfall. "How do you engage the wipers?"

Steve gave Thor a look then leaned over and flicked the stick on the right side of the steering column. The wipers began gliding across the windshield clearing off the sheen of moisture.

"Ah, thank you," Thor said politely.

"I can drive if you'd rather..."

"No, no, don't be silly. I think I can manage piloting such simple technology. I mean, it can't even fly."

Steve nodded indulgently and got his rifle cocked.

Thor followed Dr. Martin Luther King Boulevard across the Atlantic City plains towards the ocean. The area was silent. Steve did quick scans left, right and center looking for any movement or anything out of place. The further they went, the more the storm picked up steam. The wind had an almost endless fuel supply in space to whip itself up across the flat land.

"Thor," Steve said.

"Yes?"

"Headlights."

"What?"

Steve sighed. "Turn the head of the stick left of the wheel."

"There isn't one," Thor said, glancing between the road and the wheel.

"What?" Steve leaned over to see. "It should be on the end of the blinker thing."

"Well, it's not." Thor's eyes flashed. "Oh, wait, there's a little wheel here on the left."

"Does it have a symbol that's like..." Steve glanced out the window a moment for the words, "...uh, a head of a mushroom with tassels on it?"

"Yes!" Thor said gleefully.

"Great, turn it to that."

Thor did as instructed and the road lit up in front of them under the cloud of rain.

"Wonderful!" Thor cheered.

Steve chuckled, smiling out the side of his mouth.

"Turn right up here," Steve said as they reached the end of the Boulevard.

Thor turned the truck hard onto Atlantic Avenue. Steve hunched forward in his seat, trying to blink a headache away. He narrowed his eyes as he scanned the roadway.

"We need the Expressway," he muttered to no one in particular.

The rough, arid land gave way to relatively smooth, but cracking asphalt. There was a dense collection of hollow buildings and exposed scaffolding. As they neared, Steve recognized the divided road to their right.

"Yes, outlet stores, cut through that parking lot!" Steve excitedly ordered.

The truck bounced over the curb as Thor charged through the plaza among lonely stacks of bricks and drywall.

"Alright," Steve said, "we're gonna hit Baltic and then you'll hang a left and we can rejoin the –"

Headlights suddenly swallowed the rain and flooded the truck's cab. Thor swung the wheel, but both vehicles closed the gap. The wind was expelled out of their bodies like they were old balloons as the hoods crumpled together, like two beasts reared up to attack each other. The airbags exploded in dust and glass, catching their faces as the momentum thrust them forward, feeling the whole engine block being forced in against them. The world around them was no longer there; gravity was no longer fixed as the truck chasses were the domain of their own laws of physics.

When they did settle back on Earth, Steve was neither alive or dead – he was simply entirely pain. It was maybe a little after, it was maybe a lot after. He felt himself jostled free from under the crumpled smoking heap of metal. Each tug was a little stronger and more desperate. The metal rattled and crinkled, somewhere far away. It was rain, or maybe hail, or maybe rocks. Steve couldn't even remember if this was all a dream or not. Where was he? He just wanted the noise to stop. He wanted his heart to stop throbbing and whispering to him to go to sleep.

Heavy streams of water pelted his face as he was lifted out through the door frame. The metal rattling and fracturing was exponentially louder, the ringing in Steve's head worse. With Steve hooked over his shoulder, Thor dragged them across the parking lot to a McDonald's. Enemy fire ripped up the ground around them, but Thor figured, given their poor aim, the crash didn't work out so well for them either. He zig zagged about and made use of visual cover of bushes decorating the McDonald's property to keep fire off them. Once inside, Thor heaved Steve over his shoulders and sprinted passed through the tables and seats, undisturbed as if guests could be received at any time. He skidded to a stop at the counter and tossed Steve like shotput ball over the other side. Steve sprawled on the ground like he had been spilled out of a cup, making a wet squeak across the floor. Thor vaulted over right after him.

Steve groaned, trying to roll over. He winced, his wounds too tender to move. "My shoulder..." Steve whined clutching his left shoulder.

"Is it out?" Thor said.

"Yeah, I think so," Steve said breathlessly.

"Okay, just hang on a sec," Thor said, kneeling next to Steve. He grabbed him about his shoulder and adjusted his position. "Alright, on three, I'm going to pop it back in, okay?"

"Okay," Steve said, nodding and bracing.

"Okay, one –" Thor shoved the bone back into its socket with a pop only Steve could hear.

Thor was fairly certain everyone in the parking lot could hear Steve shriek.

"Steve, Steve, buddy, you've got to be quiet."

Steve inhaled and exhaled with purpose and effort, bringing himself back down. "I know, I know, sorry." He gingerly sat himself up against the counter.

Thor slid his radio out of his jacket pocket. "Man-hawk, this is Patriot. We're pinned down at...uh..." He looked to Steve.

Steve's chest heaved and he rolled his head in exasperation. "Atlantic and North Arkansas."

"We're pinned down at Atlantic and North Arkansas," Thor repeated, nodding each word through with Steve. "We need med-evac."

The radio crackled. Thor's finger was cocked on the button ready to call again.

"Roger that, Patriot," Man-hawk replied. "We can get a vehicle to you in 20-30 minutes."

"No good, Man-hawk!" Thor said. "Star is hurt!"

"Well, that's the best we can fucking do, Tho – er, Hammer!" the voice on the other end retorted. "A truck will be there soon!"

Steve waved down Thor's attention and gave a thumbs up. He circled his finger in the air above him and mouthed the word 'food.'

Thor frowned and sighed. "Roger that, Man-hawk, see you in 20." He emphasized the time indignantly and shut off his radio to ensure he had the last word on the matter.

Thor put the radio away then looked to Steve expectantly. Steve nodded and, bracing his arm against the counter, heaved himself into a tentative stance. He was hunched low, his head pounding harder with each inch he rose. His internal gyroscope was jarred from the crash. Thor offered a hand, but Steve promptly swatted him back. He steadied himself then nodded at Thor into the restaurant. Both with their weapons primed and armed they crept towards the back.

They entered into the kitchen, the warming shelves still standing. The safety literature still had a half-assed grip on the wall. They pulled open the drawers, the cabinets, the trays on the racks to find them all picked clean. Thor strolled over to the walk-in fridge. He grabbed the handle on the large, metal door and braced. His arms swelled as he drew on the rusted handle, the door whining and screeching open on its brittle hinges. He got in front of the door as it gave some birth and he pushed it all the way back. He turned, hoping his bit of effort had seen some sort of return, but his shoulders fell at the bare, oxidized shelves, some of them having dropped off the wall.

"Anything?" Steve croaked from the kitchen.

"Nothing," Thor groaned as he dragged himself back to center of the floor. He leaned on a prep table, exhausted and bored. "This has certainly been a waste of a day, eh?" He chuckled to spite himself and whoever was waiting outside.

Steve gave him a disdainful look through the gaps in the shelves. 

"What?" Thor said, his arms out at his sides in defense.

"We've still got fifteen minutes," Steve said. "Let's check the rest of the mall."

"There's an army outside."

"So, we'll slip out the back." Steve's face dropped indignantly. "I've seen armies. They're not an army."

Thor puffed and nodded.

They collected at the rear emergency exit door. Steve gently tested the release bar as Thor got in a ready stance. Steve looked to Thor for confirmation. He nodded then Steve whirled around and braced his shoulder against the door. He shifted his hip into the release bar and drove it open. It scraped along on its hinges as Thor gusted outside doing a one-eighty sweep of the parking lot. The lot was clear of hostiles but filled with the rank smell of decades old garbage rotting into the foundation of the building and into cracks in the pavement. The mall hooked around to meet them a few hundred meters away northwest. Steve staggered up next to Thor and the two dashed across the lot into the storefront.

It was reminiscent of the Borgata; filthy, dank, decrepit and clinging meekly to itself. There were empty clothing racks with their paint flaking, giving way to crusty brown and orange scars from the elements. They scoured shelves caked in dust and that smelled musty and moist. Coming up empty, they scuttled out into the halls. The acrid, spongey smell grew stronger as they proceeded through the mall corridor. Shop after shop was barren. They slipped into another store where the smell was at its strongest. Just over the threshold, Thor tapped Steve's shoulder, both their noses scrunched. He nodded at a corpse slumped forward on the floor against the cashier counter. There was a small mound of a backpack on the deceased man's back and a shoulder bag lying next to him. It was frayed around the zipper and the fabric was unravelling.

"I'll check it out," Thor said.

Steve nodded and stood guard at the entrance. Thor went and knelt over the man and gingerly touched his shoulder. Steve watched in glances, a stern dimple in one side of his mouth deepening. Thor unzipped the backpack, reeling back from the more pungent smell of rotting meat. He shielded his nose and took a breath then opened the bag next to the body. Inside the bag was a small handful of t-shirts and other assorted fabrics hastily cut.

"Patriot," the radio in Thor's jacket crackled. "Patriot, come in."

Thor huffed, internally wincing at the callsign, then drew out the radio. "This is Patriot, go ahead."

"Patriot, this is Scout. We can't get to you. Picking up a lot of trucks in the mall lot."

"Shit."

"There's a rail line at the convention center to your north. You'll be able to cross the river there."

"But we'll be totally exposed."

"Well, if you try the expressway, they'll chase you down and that's a whole bunch more problems."

Thor frowned.

"I'll cover you the whole way," the radio said. "Get a move on."

"Yeah, yeah, okay, roger that, we're coming," Thor said. He sighed through his nose and looked to Steve, putting his radio away.

Steve's brow was furrowed as he watched out into the hallway, like he was waiting for his dog to pee. He noticed Steve wincing, adjusting his stance. His face would periodically scrunch, likely blinking away pain. Thor set his neck and cleared his throat. Steve twitched and turned to Thor.

"What's going on?" Steve said.

"They're here, but now we gotta to get to them," Thor said.

"What? Aren't they in the lot?"

"No. The Gennisians are all over the street out front. We gotta get to the convention center and follow the train tracks over the river."

Steve nodded, his expression unchanged. "Let's get moving."

They slipped out to the street a block back northeast of North Arkansas. They anchored themselves to the wall of stubby, cube, outlet buildings and followed them back toward the expressway. Thor led, Steve keeping a hand gingerly on his back in case he needed his attention, he told himself. They rounded the corner and down the corridor, they could see the highway, and the courtyard to the convention center just before it. They made use of remaining car chassis, their paint chipped away and resting on their shoes and pads, for extra cover.

Steve struggled to stay low as he was still tender from the crash. He was now reminded how much pain he was really in now the adrenaline rush had passed and everything was quiet: there was only sprinkling, misty rain having let up from earlier. The winds had settled, but had significantly cooled off the day. He allowed himself to be more convinced of his hand on Thor's back being for support.

Thor stopped dead. He raised his hand. Steve stopped up behind him, taking a knee. Thor's eyes searched the skies. He tapped his ear and pointed beyond the buildings. Steve followed Thor's finger. He could hear the hum and whirr fluttering over the rooftops, dampened in the moist air.

"Sounds like a drone," Steve murmured.

They followed the sound as it drew near. They turned around, pressing against the car, low as their bodies would allow without lying down, and spotted the drone cross the road a little ways back beyond the mall. Steve's eyes narrowed as he watched the drone lilt past.

Steve sighed and settled. "It's a toy with a phone camera." He turned back and got on his feet. "Let's move."

They followed North Michigan through the convention center complex. There were husks of military trucks and the sparing few remains of bone fragments and fabric about the ground, likely soldier and civilian alike. They navigated the para-slalom of barbed wire and yellowing sandbags into the drop-off area. They entered through the remaining frame of revolving doors to the spanning lobby for the event halls. It seemed as though, from how it gaped, the building would release a deafening, pathetic groan, but the silence was jarring to the ears every second it did not. There were rusted skeletons of medical beds and other equipment. There were tents and tarps collapsed about the ground where water had worn away the fabric. The entire hall was enveloped in a foul musk of organic decay where the ground was tainted with dried, brown pools. A number of these pools had trailed away from bodies actively still being broken down by bacteria and recently gnawed away at by scavenging animals. Steve held his stomach as Thor lugged them through. His brain played their mundane, daily grind towards death with breezes of malnourished, hoarse whispers of each day's work.They found an escalator and followed it up to a floor with a gusty wind blowing around stray leaves and other dirt.

The bay windows to the railway were scattered about the floor. Thor turned to Steve, hobbling up the stairs, catching himself on the railing with both hands. Thor stepped down and set an insistent hand under Steve's forearm to help him up. Once at the top, with his rifle trained in one hand, an indignant Steve on his other arm, Thor guided them to the platform, the day outside seeming still. They squinted as the mist met their faces. Their feet crunched on the glass shards. They stepped over the frames outside onto the undisturbed concrete and suddenly the whirr of small rotors fluttered down the tracks to meet them, the drone observing them from a little way up the parallel freeway.

"Shit!" Thor blurted as the sky cracked and a burning flash slashed the vehicle out of the sky.

It sparked and leaked oily black smoke in a spiral down to the road.

Thor turns to Steve, a look of proud relief on his face. His pride faded seeing Steve's face frozen in shocked frustration.

"Thor!" Steve said. "What have I said! No abilities!"

"But they already know it's us," Thor stated.

Exasperated, Steve released himself from Thor and hobbled over to the wall to support himself and take a breather.

"What, are we not going now?" Thor said over his shoulder.

"I just need a sec," Steve grumbled, his breaths laboured.

Thor's attention was suddenly yanked south back down the freeway toward the sound of a motor. A black truck roared up the road and screamed to a stop. Thor darted back to Steve and shoved him back into the station, sending him end over end. Thor drew his rifle and opened fire on the hostiles as they scrambled out of their truck under shattering glass and bursting metal. Thor pinned one down against the truck, the doors coloured in their blood. The other three had settled behind the truck, laying down suppressing fire. Thor took cover back in the station behind a pillar, next to one Steve had crawled behind.

Steve gave Thor a patronizing look. Thor scowled and resumed returning fire.

"No need to make them more scared and angry," Thor said between bursts.

A hostile popped up from the other side of the truck's hood, their rifle trained on the station. Just as soon as they got a finger on the trigger, their skull was blown out the side of their head all over an accomplice. The others shrieked as their second casualty went down. They started firing wildly westward to where ever they thought the shot came from. Another shot whizzed in and Thor saw the explosion of blood and skin through the front window of the truck.

The remaining operative scrambled for the cab of the truck as Thor emerged from the station. They climbed in behind the wheel. They held themselves in their seat for a second, trembling as they clung to the wheel. Their mind was racing. They were the only survivor. They needed to radio for backup. Or evac. They realized they had zoned out, grunting themselves as they came back into the situation. Panting, they started the truck up and got it in gear. The truck suddenly rocked to the ground as Thor landed on the hood. He swooped around to the driver's door and threw it open, tossing the driver out. Thor grabbed the operative and flung them back into the side of the truck, crumpling the frame. They went limp, still barely conscious. Thor grabbed the human and ran his fist across their face, snapping their head left, the point of contact breaking skin.

"Where's all that fight now, huh!" Thor roared. His fist smushed the face of the unresponsive survivor again and again and again and again. He flung them back across the freeway. They collided with the guard rail, rattling off dirt and water that had collected. Thor loomed over the human, limp and bleeding.

"Thor!" Steve cried from the platform. "Thor, enough!"

Thor paused and looked back to the tracks. Steve had propped himself up against a window frame, clutching himself. He was scowling, his face stone. Thor's shoulders lifting with each breath, he looked back at the Gennisian. Thor threw a punch, but they didn't even flinch. He sighed and reeled his fist back then gathered himself.

He regrouped with Steve and walked them down the tracks over the river. It was quiet again. Even the rain had stopped. The river quietly lapped along and an icy breeze scraped their faces like a straight razor. They reached the bridge house at the center as Celeste hopped off the foot of the ladder.

She swished her red locks out of her face as she set her feet down. Her face was grubby and wet, like the rest of her from being in the sniper's nest through the rain. Her face was frosty, partly from age, partly in disdain.

Thor greeted her with a haphazard, impish grin.

Her gaze settled on Steve, still displeased her stare only seeming colder.

"Nice to see you, too," Thor said.

Celeste sighed and nodded down the tracks. Her rifle brandished across her chest, she marched them the balance of the bridge to a trail carved out in some overgrowth. They ducked the branches through to a small clearing, completely curtained around by pine trees, except for where a dirt road met them.

Ari was resting against the front of the van, holding their radio at their shoulder. Their hair was a controlled mess, though still retaining a bit of shape. A smirk was unwinding across their face as the men trailed in behind Celeste, Thor with Steve draped off one shoulder and the bag of fabrics in the opposite hand.

Guarav scurried to open the side door of the van in preparation to receive. He got blankets laid out for Steve then glided back outside to aid Thor. His big eyes were even wider seeing Steve up close. His large nostrils flared larger as he tried to think of something to say. He got under the other arm of Steve to help Thor, giving Steve an endearing pat on the chest which Steve accepted gracefully.

Celeste halted abruptly. Thor nearly bumped up against her, catching and readjusting Steve and the bag.

She whirled around at Thor. "I thought we were very clear."

"Steve's already said it, thanks," Thor retorted.

"Hey, hey, guys, please," Pete said, his porky frame chugging over to help Guarav. He disarmed his SAW machinegun and slung it over his shoulder.

Thor released Steve to the men with one arm and shirked off the fabric bag with the other.

"Hey, you found some stuff!" Pete said over his shoulder.

He planted his feet on the ground and pushed as Guarav heaved Steve up into the van.

"Okay, guys, I'm hurt, but I can still move," Steve said, writhing against them.

"No, no, we got this, Cap," Guarav said.

"Don't call me that," Steve snapped, trying to catch himself.

The two men stopped and looked at each other, partly bewildered, partly just dumb.

"But, isn't that just a rank?" Guarav said plainly. "Like, aren't you actually a captain?"

Steve resignedly settled. "Just get me in the van."

Guarav and Pete scrambled back into the motion and got Steve down on a blanket. Pete grabbed a backpack and tucked it under Steve's head.

"So," Pete called, following Guarav out of the van. "What's in the bag, Thor?"

Thor and Celeste remain locked on each other. Celeste's face never changed from passive displeasure. Thor was trying to keep his scowl cool and calm. He wanted to reinforce his unassailability. Celeste's eyes never left Thor's face, her stance unwavering. Thor shifted his feet a third time. He was looking to the others for validation. Ari watched on in amusement, to Thor's dismay. His face dropped and he was beginning to get impatient. Celeste was unmoved at the infantile fit brewing just below Thor's surface.

Pete waddled over to the bag and peaked inside. "Oh, you got some cloths! That's great! You know, winter's in just a couple months, so..."

Thor and Celeste remained silent, lost to the world around them. Guarav leaned against the van, arms folded. Steve had sat up a bit and watched from inside the van. Ari picked at their nails, casually glancing back and forth from the situation.

"Thor," Steve called, "c'mon."

Thor glanced at Steve, but quickly redirected back to Celeste. His shoulders then fell in a puff, looking deflated. "I'm going to be honest. I've forgotten why we're doing this."

Celeste looked to the sky, seemingly exhausted from the exchange. She turned and strode back to the van. "Steve."

"Yeah."

"Control Thor."

"Yes, Celeste," Steve replied cordially, lying back down.


	6. Chapter 6

Manahawkin, New Jersey sits at the intersection of two freeways. The town in its naissance seemed to appear out of happenstance beckoned by the roads to New York and Atlantic City. It's possible that wasn't the case, that the people were rather drawn by the tranquil pond just off Route 9 in the little hamlet of Stafford. Though most of the buildings had become uninhabitable, enough remained for a settlement to have followed the same beck and call as the town in which it was now housed.

Directly at the intersection was a two-storey house with baby blue, alloy siding, falling apart the least. It sat in a parking lot set down a small ridge next to the highway with a small concrete lot attached. Its windows were boarded, but it retained its original cottage door. Guarav took to it immediately for his medical practice. Pete had told him it was once an insurance firm; Guarav found the offices perfect for patient rooms. He had to rip up the carpet as it was beginning to rot and collect mould, gumming up the interior with a heavy odor that hung in the air like moisture.

Steve had been set up in a bed on the upper floor. He was upright surveying the bare brick walls and bare concrete floor. Guarav had given him extra blankets to protect against the cold air conducted by the concrete. Steve's face was spotty with medical tape and bandages. He could feel the weight of the makeshift splint around his core to keep him straight while his ribs healed. Breathing was easier now than it had been at first, having tuned his mind to ignore the pain of his lungs touching his ribs.

Guarav tapped on the door frame, leaning at the threshold with a notepad up under his arm.

Steve smiled graciously. "Hey, doc."

Guarav grinned and gingerly stepped in. "How are you feeling?"

"Good as I'm gonna be, I think." Steve chuckled to himself.

"Alright," Guarav said.

He walked over to Steve's bedside and performed a few basic tests of mobility and pain. He lifted Steve's blanket to check the cast. He felt a small swell of pride seeing it holding firm in place. He reset the blanket and looked to Steve. "You seem to have made great improvement. I can't see any reason to keep you here."

Steve took a grateful breath and for a moment a younger, stronger Steve shined through as he looked to Guarav. "That's great."

Guarav's face slowly wound back into concern despite himself.

"What is it?" Steve said.

"You know you are low on meds, yes?" he said, gesturing to a pill bottle on a nightstand at the wall.

Steve sighed and nodded.

Guarav tilted his brow down, looking deeply at Steve. "I would advise you take it easy."

Steve flashed a small smile, like some old loose change he found in the corner of a lint-filled pocket.

Guarav's face unwound and relaxed. "Ari's waiting downstairs to take you and Thor back to Ship Bottom."

Steve nodded and gently sat up, Guarav at the ready like a spotter. Steve gave Guarav a look at his ostensible concern. Made aware of himself, Guarav relaxed and let Steve get up. Steve sat at the edge of the bed, giving Guarav an expectant look. Guarav stared blankly back. Steve's face settled and he shifted his eyes to the door.

Guarav glanced over his shoulder and then the queue dawned on him. "Right, sorry, I'll let you get dressed."

"Thanks," Steve said graciously.

Guarav nodded and showed himself out, closing the door behind him.

Steve rose to his feet, letting his toes and pads gradually acclimatize to the cold and tested his weight on himself as he stood up in stages. He hobbled to get his shirt and jacket off a metal chest at the foot of the bed. In the corner of the room was a section of mirror clumsily hung on the wall, hanging lopsided. Steve grabbed the pill bottle off the nightstand and went over to the mirror. He paused before his reflection. It was familiar, but still jarring. He still appeared fit with his broad shoulders, vast chest, a sturdy core, all with the same gentle but unmissable definition. But there wasn't the same perkiness. Much of the muscle tone was showing stretch marks – across his chest and about his arms. There was mustard discoloration in other places of bruises that still hadn't fully healed. In other places, the skin had coarse ridges of scars from wounds that never fully or properly closed. Overall, he was sore: his muscles were stiff and ached. He realized his chest heaving and was suddenly aware of his own winded breaths. He looked down at the reflection of the pill bottle in his hand. His shoulders made a small rise and fall. He deftly twisted the top off and popped a pair of capsules down his throat.

He cautiously navigated the pain as he got his shirt and jacket on, then slipped the bottle into his inside pocket. With a bit of a limp from his legs being stiff and his core still tender, he made his way downstairs to the front room of the house, the de facto waiting room.

"How ya feeling, buddy?" Thor said, watching Steve descend the stairs trying to hide the difficulty he was having.

Steve stopped at the bottom, a steadying hand on the bannister post. He noticed Thor's look was troubling: it was ostensibly blank, but there was something a little more unsettling threatening to betray his façade.

"I'm fine, let's go," Steve said.

The two men piled into a pickup truck with Ari behind the wheel. They turned the ignition and the truck groggily rumbled to life. They got their hand on the gearshift but stopped and looked to their passengers. "Didn't you guys take a truck to AC?"

Steve and Thor looked to each other sheepishly, their mouths floundering to form words. They settled on looking away out their windows instead.

"Did you at least find the heart medication?" Ari said, their voice a little more strained with concern.

Still, Thor and Steve kept their wall up, Steve's eyes falling to the sill.

"That's great, guys," Ari said, putting the truck in gear.

Ari drove them down Highway 72 out to the coast to the bones of Long Beach. Much of the resort town had been reclaimed by the ocean in the decades its spent encroaching upon the land. In with it, it had brought a number of old ships and boats joining the rusted shells of the warships already beached. The hulls of great Destroyers had rusted and eroded away, exposing their insides creating nesting grounds for local wildlife. Among the shipwrecks were the remains of aircraft that had gone down: a small handful of Cessnas scattered up the beach, a cargo craft and a private jet. The inlets filled out and many of the roads had washed away. 72 was under a shallow sheen coming past the conservation area, and the increased moisture in the earth below had compromised the road ensnaring anything smaller than a pickup truck. Steve and Thor had made a home in one of the many seaside inns. There's, the Drifting Sands, still had some of its original signage, though it had mostly flaked and rotted. It received some protection from the catwalk overhang above. Steve always had Ari drop him and Thor in the township of Ship Bottom in a plaza just north of 72 up the main road. They'd share an abridged goodbye as they got their gear out of the bucket and then they'd fight the wind gusts back down to E 9th, the end of 72 on the coastal side of the main road. Their building was just before where the water's edge was this year, having remained fairly constant for the last few years.

Thor scaled the stairs up from the foyer with his things over his shoulder and turned around with a puffed chest at the top. He turned to see Steve climbing steadily, but at a bit of a stagger under his weight and his bag. Thor thought about asking if his friend wanted assistance, but Steve's noticeable effort to not meet Thor's gaze as he climbed made him reconsider.

Their door, 203, was immediately atop the stairs. Their room had what they needed – a closet at the front door, an open living room and kitchen, two beds and a balcony. There wasn't any colour to the room, the innards of the building exposed, but they had hung up animal hides and fabrics found over window openings, and used any extra fabrics and blankets found to drape the furniture. There still wasn't much in the way of colour, but it made the building seem alive still.

Thor tossed the loot bag on his bed with a lackadaisical swing of his arm. Steve stood at the wall behind folded arms as Thor skimmed through the items, tossing things aside as he went grumbling under his breath.

"Well, it's something," Steve said quietly. "Winter's coming soon and we could use the layers."

Thor punched the last fabric into the bed, leaning forward on the pillows. "I know, but like..." he gestured to scattered fabrics and rags. "We're Avengers. We can do better than this."

Steve shook his head to himself, looking into his arms. "There's nothing left to avenge, Thor."

Steve met Thor's gaze. Steve adjusted his stance and Thor could see more clearly the spots in Steve's skin and how his hair seemed limp.

Thor shook the thought out of his head then got a glint in his eye. "Guess you're not feeling like a hunt, huh."

Steve remained stern. "I'm gonna go to bed."

Thor concealed a frown as Steve hauled himself onto his bed.

"Well, I am," Thor grumbled.

Steve crinkled his forehead as he got his boots off and began undressing.

Thor sighed then went over to the closet by the door. He slid the wood panel door to one side, its age creaks like screams.

"Hey," Steve said.

Thor rose to look at his friend eagerly.

"When you come back I'll be asleep," Steve said, "so for the love of God just leave it open."

A bit deflated, Thor nodded compliantly. Steve squared his mouth then retired to his room.

Thor stooped again. In the closet was Stormbreaker, a cardboard box that smelled of dust, and probably mildew and dead bugs, and behind that a rifle. Thor heaved the box to one side out of the way of the rifle: a Bushmaster Predator with an adjustable zoom scope he had found on a hunt many years back. His eyes caught Stormbreaker set against the wall next to the rifle. He lovingly brushed a hand over the blade, clearing it of any dust or dirt. He smiled forlornly at it. He reached out his hand, his muscles twitching toward the axe. The axe rattled on the wall, the two seeming to resist their silent calls out to each other. Thor breathed and settled in himself. He grabbed the rifle off the wall and left.

Thor especially liked the Predator as he found killing animals by hand unpleasant, and often his own strength would too severely damage his kill. The Predator was accurate and responsive; its semi automatic firing system made it a forgiving weapon if he missed.

He strolled up Long Beach Boulevard a couple blocks. The waterline now being just about the end of the roads had allowed the ships hulls to drift closer in through beating after beating by storms. Thor found an old miniature golf course at the corner of Long Beach and West Fifth and hunkered down. He set the bipod up and got in a comfortable position on his stomach. He trained the scope down West Fifth towards a Destroyer with a gap in its hull the size of some of the houses. The rusty erosion had made the edges around it jagged, almost like teeth. He waited for anything to poke its head out or scurry in.

About half an hour went by with nothing of note. It was mainly smaller creatures, like raccoons or skunks that waddled past; nothing big enough. His peripherals caught something writhing across the small green next to him. He lowered his rifle and slowly turned to the squiggle in the turf approaching. His eyes lit up seeing the little, colourful snake tasting out its path. He shouldered his rifle and leaped up towards the snake. It recoiled like an excited heartbeat.

"Brother?" Thor whispered.

He extended an unsteady hand out towards the creature. It slipped its tongue out in the air, wriggling it about. It tentatively approached Thor's hand. His eyes became glassy and a smile sunk into his face as he felt the tiny snake's tongue dance across Thor's fingertips.

"Brother!" Thor excitedly cried, scooping the snake up around its neck. Realizing where he had grasped the creature, he fretfully recoiled and the snake dropped to the ground with a little clap. "Ah, shit, sorry! I realize the neck might be – erm – a sensitive spot–"

Almost as soon as it hit the ground, the snake scrambled back the way it came, finding a hiding spot in a knot in the wood base of another course. Thor stood, frozen in place. He felt dim and heavy, with a swirling pit in his stomach. He felt trapped on the farthest horizon from a setting sun. He shook off the shadow he felt crawling over his insides and resumed his position behind the rifle.

A half an hour passed before a black bear lumbered out from between some homes. It stopped in the middle of the street and stuck its nose in the air. Its nostrils flexed and flared as it sniffed. Thor tried to focus the lens, the bear becoming increasingly difficult to spot in the settling dusk. Thor watched it swivel its head about in the air and lined up the shot, identifying something close to a pattern in its movements. His finger coiled around the trigger and he squeezed. The gun popped and the ships hull sparked from the impact with a resonant ding. The bear froze and swiveled its head between the pop and the ding. Thor shot to his feet as did the bear. He snapped the gun up to his shoulder and aligned the sight in one motion. In a second, he fired again. Blood and other fragments popped off the bear's head. It roared in agony and irritation. It planted its feet, though with a sway, seeming dazed. It caught its footing then charged, full force up the street. Thor took a breath as it closed in, waiting, still. Halfway up the street Thor could hear the rumble of the charge. Three quarters of the way he could see its face. Its feet touched the crosswalk at the intersection and the gun blasted again. Blood, bone and brain splattered into the air as the bear went limp and crashed to the ground, its momentum sliding it part way through the intersection to a halt. Thor lowered the gun and shouldered it. He marched over to the bear and knelt at its head. He set a solemn hand between its eyes and bowed his head.

Steve awoke some time after midnight. The night was still pitch black and flooded the apartment as though they were submerged in oil. He turned over in his bed and looked to Thor. He was lost deep in sleep, sprawled on his bed emanating snores deep from his chest. Steve grabbed a small flashlight off his night table and flicked it on. The light stream was milky and the was the only thing within which the known world was contained. He lifted his pillow and shined the light on a scrap piece of paper he grabbed.

Steve treaded out of bed and lightly, a hand cupping the side of his light so as to not disturb Thor. He slid the balcony door to one side, wincing as it scraped along its track. He glanced back at Thor as he tenderly dragged the door along. Steve paused in a start as Thor shifted in his bed. Steve looked back at him, then sighed in relief seeing Thor had rolled over away from the door.

Steve killed his light as he stepped onto the balcony and felt his way to the railing. He scanned the northern horizon where small, weak lights twinkled like the old light of long dead stars. Soon enough, it caught his eye. High above the small lights, a brighter, stronger light blinked against the night. Steve stared on at it, tapping his finger on the balcony railing as it blinked. It would conclude its speech and then go silent for a few seconds. Then, it would restart its call into the wild and repeat. Steve didn't know how long this went on; for all he knew it was all night. He would just stay up for about an hour of the light's company. Before retiring for the night, he unfolded his piece of paper for one last cycle. The light's pattern never changed from the pattern of dots and dashes he'd jotted down.


	7. Chapter 7

The next morning, shortly after a terse radio call from Celeste about meeting with the mayor of the settlement, Ari arrived to collect Steve and Thor back to Manahawkin. Ari's face was equivocated. They looked like they were simultaneously on the verge of laughter and anxiety.

"Ryan's pissed, isn't he," Steve said, riding shotgun.

Ari flexed their neck, dismissing the question.

Steve sighed and met Thor's eyes in the rearview. Thor had chosen to remain blissful and ignorant. Steve slipped his pill bottle out of his jacket pocket, downed a capsule. As he replaced the bottle, he caught Ari's eyes in the rearview, longingly morose. Steve frowned and ostensibly turned his head to his window.

They arrived in Manahawkin Lake Park, the effective civil no man's land off Route 9 between Stafford and Manahawkin. They disembarked from the truck at the roadway and made the brief walk in. The park in fall was mainly dirt and mud. There was a denser collection of tree trunks than elsewhere in the immediate area, quickly losing their leaves which were in the point of decay past the golds and reds to the sickly browns. Amongst the trunks, upon the lake was a tent approximately the size of a bungalow home. They ducked in under the flaps to the immediate mess area: there were a collection of a few benches where some more senior members from Manahawkin and satellite areas, stretching to townships like Barnegat and Beachwood up near the Toms River. They idly talked over winter plans and comparing crop yields. They were primarily older men and women under thick coats and animal hides with leathery faces. All had some kind of facial hair, weather full beards or some upper lip stubble.

"There you are," Ryan said, breezing the flaps to the rear quarters out of his way. He stood firm as the flaps settled behind him, his tanned and stubbly face granite.

The group froze in their steps. Ari took a step out of the way of Ryan's gaze. Steve looked like a wet dog. Thor gleaned over the tent like a friend was showing him their newly finished renovations. The others at the benches braced their backs and shoulders up, hunched against Ryan's presence.

"Let's go," Ryan said, standing to one side and holding up a flap.

Thor sighed, knowing he had to cut the act. He and Steve meandered forward under Ryan's eyes to the back quarters.

He looked to Ari. He seemed conflicted about something, but it was unclear from his demeanor.

"Yes, sir?" Ari said as though just to indulge him.

Ryan fiddled with his words. "Just...go wait in the truck."

Ari waved their hands out at their sides in mocking deference as they turned to leave.

The rear section of the tent was more organized: there were plastic buffet tables down the center where a handful of people sat having a quiet chat; an assortment of chalkboards on the various walls with marks of hasty scribbling and erasing. At the very back was a small, cedar desk.

"Can we have the room, please?" Ryan ordered.

The hunched folks at the buffet table rolled to their feet and lumbered out.

Ryan gestured for Steve and Thor to take a seat at the central table. Ryan stood at the head over the two men. Both sat with their hands in their laps: Thor impishly, but Steve was solemn.

Ryan sighed. "What happened, guys?"

"We were caught off guard," Steve said.

"Yeah, I'd say so. Celeste tells me those people were cooperating with the Gennisians."

Thor nodded absently. "That's what it looks like."

Ryan growled and stood up. He paced the room. "Historically, Gennisian violence has always been against AC."

"Yeah, it has a reputation from before the war, we know," Thor said.

Ryan came a to stop and turned to face Thor. His face was dark with displeasure at Thor's quips. "You better check yourself, son."

Thor chuckled. "Oh, I am not your son–"

The table rattled under the crash of Ryan's fist. He looked at Thor, whose attention he had now fully coerced. "You don't get to just brush this off, Thor! The only reason shit got so fucked was because you couldn't keep a lid on it."

Thor turned in his seat in offense. "I beg your pardon. I saved our lives! Twice!"

"That drone wasn't armed, Thor," Steve mumbled.

"Well, still..." Thor fidgeted with his fingers on the table. "Once still counts."

Ryan sighed and slumped into a seat.

"That was a very organized response," Steve said, "even before Thor blew our cover."

"Yeah," Ryan said, stroking his face. "What if they were expecting you?"

"How could they?" Thor said.

Ryan's hand paused on his frozen face, pulling the skin and his tired, half-lidded eyes into a speechless droop.

 

Ryan collected himself, his nose and upper lip twitching.

"What if they know we're here?" Steve said.

"Or they're gaining ground," Ryan said promptly.

"Well, to be fair, we are quite close to New York," Thor said.

Ryan folded his arms on the table, hunched over. He sighed, staring across the room. "They've managed to reach right passed us all the way down to AC...I mean, they're growing, and quick."

"How'd they manage to slip around us like that?" Steve said. "How'd we miss that?"

"Maybe we ought to do some recon," Thor said. "We could stake out in one of those towers for a few days."

Steve's eyes shot up. He clenched his jaw.

Ryan's shoulders fell. He scratched the back of his neck for a moment, holding his eyes on the table as his brain worked. "Alright, take the day to rest up." He tersely glanced at Steve as he adjusted in his seat. "Then tomorrow, you'll gear up and head out. Good?"

Thor nodded, leaning back in his chair resting his hands atop his head. Steve nodded mechanically.

"Great," Ryan grunted getting to his feet. "You can see yourselves out."

Steve and Thor rose and shuffled out of Ryan's quarters.

They walked back out to the road to the truck. They came upon Ari dead to the world in the driver's seat, their arms folded across their chest, a puddle of drool collecting in the corner of their mouth, and part of their forehead smudged on the window. Thor sighed and wrapped his knuckle on the window. Ari's eyes lilted open, looking annoyed. They wiped the drool off on their hand then powered up the truck. They rolled the window down and gave them a scrutinizing once-over.

"How'd it go?" they said.

Thor shrugged.

"There's some cause for concern," Steve said.

Ari huffed and nodded. "Yeah, no, that whole thing was weird." They arched an eyebrow and groggily scratched the back of their neck. "So, you guys looking to go back to Long Beach, or what?"

"Is that...isn't that why you're still here?" Thor said, looking like a lost child.

"No – no, I was clearly napping," Ari said sharply.

"In your truck?"

"Yes. Why go all the way back home when I can nap here in a peaceful park?" They looked at Thor, cocking their head. "So, you wanna ride or not, 'cause I'm running out of patience here."

"I won't speak for Thor, but I think I'm gonna take a walk."

"No, Ryan said you need rest," Thor argued. "We've got a busy day tomorrow."

"Ugh, fuck, am I gonna have to drive again?" Ari said, knocking their head back against the headrest.

"Uh, yeah, probably," Steve said. He sighed and glanced down the road, then at Thor. "I'm just going for a short walk in to Stafford. I won't be long."

Thor frowned, looking at Steve down the end of his nose. He wanted to scold Steve, but there was a catch in his throat. It wasn't something sad, or angry, or anything else fiery or bubbly, but like a child-proof lock on the chemical cabinet under someone's sink. He just nodded and looked at the truck. "I think I might just lounge about here."

"No, please, I'd love to have you," Ari said out the windshield, their tone as lifeless as their face.

Thor rolled his eyes and made himself comfortable in the bucket of the truck. Steve began his lethargic shamble down the highway.

After about a quarter mile, Steve emerged from the collection of trunks amongst a grouping of houses spared from the war. They were mostly intact, the only damage or harm coming to them from having not seen maintenance against the elements in decades. Their siding was flaking and warped in places, as were the window frames. Many of the windows had shattered, either due to those flexing frames or at the hands of people looking for any way to finesse death one more day. Their lawns had risen up to tickle the flower pots still clinging to the frames, reuniting with the sprouting plant life within. The silence of the neighbourhood was occasionally punctured by the pop of a rifle from down behind a house. It was the only house in Stafford with a car out front. Steve followed the shots, as though passively on some fixed rail.

He waded through the overgrowth to the gate to a backyard. It took a little wiggling to free the knob from the clasp as the clasp's joint had been stultified by ages of moisture, becoming stiff. The shots stopped as Steve struggled with the lock and entered the backyard. He came around the side of the low, small deck to Celeste's perch. Her rifle rested on some sandbags, the barrel pointed down the yard at scrap metal containers on the back fence.

"Hey," Steve said.

"Hi," Celeste replied, clearing her hair from her face, antsy.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt," Steve said, reading her face.

Celeste shook her head and sat back on the doorstep.

Steve glanced down at the targets, all with clusters of entry wounds. "How's the shooting?"

"It's fine."

Steve smiled politely and hoisted himself onto the deck, taking a seat on the step below Celeste's. "So, I'm guessing you got Ryan all caught up on what happened in AC?"

Celeste tensed up, her chin pointed down at her collarbone. "Uh huh."

"Yeah, he was pretty pissed about the whole thing," Steve said with a chuckle.

Celeste sighed. "Is there something you want, Steve? 'Cause this is kinda my time right now."

Steve retreated into himself. "Uh, no. I just wanted some time too, I guess."

Celeste sighed in spite of herself. She got up and retrieved her rifle off the sandbags. She leaned on the bags as she disarmed the weapon and removed the magazine. "Sorry. Um, you and Thor thinking of moving more in land this storm season?"

"Nah," Steve said. "This year's been quiet. We'll probably just stay put."

Celeste inspected her weapon, turning it over, and over again. "The water levels have been getting higher though."

"Not since last year."

"Yeah, but the last five years it's come in over a foot."

Steve nodded as there was nothing else he could think to say.

"Steve," she said, her tone more directed.

He looked at her, squinting against the day.

"C'mon, it's not like you guys are oblivious to the fact the ocean is literally on your doorstep. Fuck, most of Long Beach has been washed away since the war. Y'know? There's a reason you and Thor are the only ones out there."

Steve's head drooped. He tried to find anywhere to look that wasn't at Celeste.

Celeste turned and lined up her sight with a target. "I just don't get why you guys don't move in to Manahawkin. It's safer. And I'm sure Ari would appreciate not having to go pick you guys up all the time." Her face turned quietly stern. "You'll be closer to Guarav."

Steve smiled spitefully at nothing in particular, resettling back in the present moment. "We're doing just fine, thanks. Plus, the view's nice."

Celeste's sight fell center in line with a target. She could hear the pop and see the sweet burst of shrapnel like a parachute out the back of the tin. Her finger slid towards the trigger but stopped on the guard. She sighed, resting her cheek on the stock. "Look, I'm gonna be honest, I'm really not in the mood to chat right now. Do you mind if I just shoot and you just sit there?"

"By all means," Steve said.

"Okay." She exhaled as her finger coiled around the trigger and squeezed. The recoil surged through her cheekbones as the side of the can was chipped off. "Fuck!"

Thor had made himself quite comfy in the bucket of the truck. His hands were laced behind his head as a pillow and he lounged as though he was on a warm beach, and not in New Jersey on the verge of winter. Ari had reclined their seat all the way down with their eyes closed in a scowl, trying to get back to their nap.

"You know what I find funny?" Thor said, almost giddily as his one foot in the air, his leg perched atop his knee, excitedly twitched.

"What do you find funny, Thor?" Ari said sardonically.

"I – I dunno – I just thought the apocalypse would be...busier. But it's actually been quite relaxing. A lot of nothing to do."

"Yeah, we're all having a great time," Ari said, opening their eyes with a roll.

"Hm, maybe that sounded a bit glib," Thor said with an innocent smirk. "But it's just so different. Like I don't recall ever doing this much lounging about."

"I'm guessing being an Avenger kept you pretty busy?" Ari said.

"Oh," Thor said, chuckling at himself, "very. We were constantly beholden to each other, our own responsibilities, keeping up appearances." Thor's nostalgic, warm grin faded. The silence and tranquility were suddenly more glaring. He sat up, his face drooping into a frown. The peace and quiet in one moment was no longer comforting, but echoing somewhere on the horizon like an old, out of tune bell.

Ari turned in their seat at Thor's sudden stillness. His head was back against the window as he looked off somewhere, probably nowhere. His knees were drawn up towards himself and he suddenly seemed mortal sized, almost like a boy that was regretting running away from a home he couldn't return to. Ari swung their feet up on the front seat and leaned against the front door.

"Tony Stark seemed like a pretty remarkable guy," Ari said. "That arc technology?" They shook their head with a puff of amazement. "I mean, I'm not like a scientist or anything, but I heard that, like, perpetual energy was supposed to be impossible."

Thor excitedly turned to face Ari, his face aglow again. "Yes! Oh, my goodness, he was a brilliant man! A bit full of himself to be honest, though. I mean, sure, he had a cool suit and flew around and had cool blasters, but can he shoot lightning?" Thor's face scrunched in friendly derision. "But, yeah, he was pretty smart. And, I'm given to understand the first official Avenger."

"I thought that was Steve," Ari said.

"No – well, you see, Nick Fury first approached Stark when..." Thor hit the same mental wall again. He couldn't find the words to answer Ari. His brain had exhausted its fuel supply. The words just seemed like shadows on the ground.

Ari craned their neck, on the brink of an impish chuckle. "Sorry, did you say his name was Fury?"

Thor scowled, turning his face away. Ari saw the boy emerge again as Thor reeled his legs back and bunched himself up into the corner of the truck. Again, he looked off nowhere, away from Ari. Ari readjusted onto the center console.

"Thor?" they said.

Thor remained silent.

"Hey, dude?" Ari said, kneeling on the backseat.

Thor felt heavy like the words in his brain. It spread over him like a flash freeze before he could even process what was happening to him. It was a cold that set into his bones, a frost to which one becomes accustomed. It was as though the sun would no longer shine and he was invisible from all the other shadows that had been.

Thor was jolted out of his slumber by a knuckle wrapping on the side of the truck. Like a lonely, patient dog he peaked over the bucket. Steve had returned looking a bit wrung dry. He smiled passively at Thor. Thor wanted to smile and ask his friend what he'd been up to, ready to scold him if he hadn't listened to Ryan, but he felt too deflated to muster the air to carry the still heavy words. Instead he nodded and sat back in the truck.

Steve looked on after Thor quizzically. He motioned for Ari to roll the window down. They crawled over the seat and held the button, the window humming back into its slot.

"What's up with him?" Steve said quietly, leaning into the truck.

Ari shrugged and shook their head.

Steve sauntered over to the bucket and leaned on the side, his hands on the ledge where his chin rested. "Hey, pal."

Thor looked to Steve. Steve frowned, seeing Thor's startlingly blank face.

"Hey," Thor said in a sigh.

"I think it's about lunch time." Steve leaned down the side to the window. "Is that right, Ari?"

"Uh, yeah!" Ari replied eagerly, poking their head out the window. "Yeah, it's gotta be about midday. You guys hungry?"

"I am," Steve said.

Thor nodded and forced a smile. "Let's make haste."

They rode back into Manahawkin-proper to a mess hall a little north of the triage center. The building was a low-rise, flat top, red brick community center with the letters of its name still spottily hanging on façade. Out front there was the muddy, packed down corpse of a garden now overtaken by weeds and shrubs. A small handful of community members stood at the door, having a smoke and chatting idly about one thing or another. They smiled and nodded politely as Steve, Thor and Ari strode past.

They crossed through the foyer which effort had gone into keeping livable. Cracks in the floor had been filled in and packed with dirt. The floor itself was relatively clean and free of dead plant life. The ceilings had a bit of water damage, with buckets on the floor beneath leaky cracks. There were ladders left standing with toolboxes and materials set about their respective bases.

They entered into the gymnasium to a light din of chatter bouncing about the open air. The floor was scraped up and dusty, and tarps had been strung wall to wall in place of a roof. People sat at long tables, still dressed for the elements, munching hungrily on meat with loud, wet slurps. They talked with exuberance about their day, crops, strange sightings, and some exchanging tales of pre-war mythology. Thor's head swiveled like a motion sensor hearing people discuss Celestials, Watchers, Thanos even the Infinity Stones themselves. This was regular conversation, but something Thor still struggled to get accustomed to. Steve had learned to tune it all out as just recreational, mythical excitement; it was something fantastical people discussed to distract themselves from the everyday grind of work.

They got in line at the food table. It was a long set of tables against the wall adjacent to the doors, stretching from corner to corner. Any empty, reasonably clean container was used for organizing rations into a buffet: meat, vegetables, fruits, bonus. The labels were constant, but the contents varied day-to-day; whatever hunters and gatherers brought in. At this moment, it was squirrel and raccoon season and would be until about November – they were getting fat and reckless as they stocked up on food in preparation for hibernation, making them easier targets for hunters. This was also the time of year fruit and vegetable rations were shrunk down in preparation for the winter. The bonus bin was usually the bi-product of any missions into urban centers. The bonus bin was luxuries – cookies, candy, canned fruits that weren't available organically in the region, pop and the like. Today it was mini, multi-coloured marshmallows. Thor excitedly rushed to them, having conservatively packed his plate with squirrel meat, potatoes and carrots. He dug a hand into the bin he was surprised and pleased to find still quite full, considering they were later to arrive. As he closed his fist around the sweets, he felt how hard they were, like brittle pebbles. He opened his hand and the colours seemed to have lost their vibrancy – they looked more pale and sickly. He let them trickle through his fingers back into the bin, feeling heavy.

Steve came and set a hand on Thor's shoulder. "Sorry, pal."

Thor sighed, his shoulders gently sagging. "It's always a bit of a...uh...what's it called..." he looked to Steve as he tried to come up with the term. "A shit shot?"

Steve had to catch his laughter, bringing his other hand back under his tray to keep his lunch from spilling.

"It's-it's crap shoot, Thor," he said between chuckles.

Thor smiled straight-lipped. "Crap shoot, right."

"We gonna eat or what," Ari said.

The men nodded and followed Ari to a seat. They found Pete and Ravi next to each other at an open section on a table. Pete was absently droning on about something as Ravi grazed on some potatoes. Steve, Thor and Ari set their plates down across from them and slid onto the bench. Thor and Steve experienced a bit of difficulty as they negotiated not getting their two large bodies tangled up together. Once they were planted on the bench, any conversation was made impossible as the two kept having to adjust: Thor's foot kept resting on Steve's; Steve's hip was digging into Thor; there wasn't enough space for either's elbow to eat their food. Ari's face was starting to show veins as her bench rocked and jostled as Steve and Thor kept trying to sneak small adjustments, always just one away from satisfactory comfort.

"Can you just fucking sit still!" Ari snapped.

Steve and Thor froze, their eyes wide, like Pete and Ravi's, like the rest of the table now looking at them. Ari glanced up and down the table, painfully aware of the attention now on them. They shrank into themselves as they started gnawing on their raccoon meat. Steve and Thor settled, tolerating their final position and the spotty personal space.

"Hey, guys, make some room," Celeste said, whisking up behind Steve and Thor.

Ari whipped around at Celeste. "Go around the other side. I just got them to stop fidgeting."

"Geez, sorry we happen to be fuller figured men," Thor sneered at Ari.

Ari and Celeste both stared ice at Thor. Seeing and feeling the cold wind blowing in, Thor immediately retreated from the conversation. Celeste bristled and walked the half length of the gym down to the end of the table, around, and back up the other side to Ravi and Pete. They promptly made room for her as she clattered her plate down swung into her spot.

"I was just saying to Ravi," Pete said, "can you believe all this rain we've been getting?"

Ravi continued to chew in slow, long motions, a thousand-yard stare in his eyes. Celeste shook her head in a minimal effort contribution.

"Yeah, it's been soggy lately," Steve said.

"Hopefully this trend holds up through the winter and we'll have good soil for the spring," Pete said with more excitement. "Can you tell I've been praying?" He munched the meet off a bone with a cheeky glow.

"Yeah, well, where was your god this summer?" Ari said dryly. "It was hot as fuck and hella dry."

"Ari," Steve pleaded.

"Well, the summer was the summer and now it's fall," Pete said into his food, "and now we've had some rain."

"But this year's harvest was shit," Ari said.

Pete set his food down in controlled impatience. "Well." He wiped his fingers against his thumbs. "I actually socialize with the farmers and they said it wasn't great, but not that far off average, so..."

Ari set their eyes smugly on Pete. "So below average. How did prayer help again?"

"Alright, guys, enough," Celeste said, her tone like a knife deflating an overblown balloon.

Ari slouched and rested their cheek up on their fist, scowling off elsewhere. Pete pleasantly continued with his meal.

The rest of the meal was peppered with sporadic, tepid conversation. Ari was more eager to get back to the truck and on the road. They quickly dumped their plate off at the collection station at the end of the food table and hurried Steve and Thor out of the gymnasium. They marched them out to the road and got their hand on the truck's door handle as Pete bumbled out the door.

"Hey, guys, hang on a sec!" he called.

Ari bristled and turned around. Steve and Thor stopped at the end of the walkway.

"I'm given to understand you're off on a mission tomorrow?" Pete said.

"That's right," Thor said.

Pete nodded and smiled thoughtfully. "Well, maybe it would make more sense to stay here in town for sake of ease. Not have all that driving around, y'know?"

Steve's jaw flexed, maintaining a poker face. Thor pouted his lip as he mulled it over, lilting his head from one side to the other.

"I mean, yeah, why not," Thor said, with increasing satisfaction with the idea.

"Well, I mean, I don't know," Steve said. "We don't want to put you guys out. And like Long Beach is just down the highway."

"It's almost a half hour drive," Pete said, leaning past them to Ari. "Isn't that right?"

Ari folded their arms and shrugged. "Meh, more like fifteen-twenty minutes."

"Still," Pete said, leaning back to Steve and Thor.

"Yeah, but we'll be better rested back in Ship Bottom–"

"Rogers, I don't know, I think he kind of has a point," Thor interjected. "We're here now, we'll be here tomorrow..."

"We're here all the time, but still always go back to Ship Bottom at the end of the day," Steve retorted. "And rest, really, is life or death."

Thor gave Steve a quizzical look. Steve tried to nudge Thor into compliance through the flexing of eyebrows. Suddenly, Thor's face darkened and became equivocated. It was as if a door was shut and he turned on autopilot.

"Plus, Ryan wants you to rest," Thor added.

Steve nodded his head to one side, like he was trying to ignore a persistent itch. "I mean, yeah, he did say that."

"So, I guess you just wanna do what he says," Thor said with an easy breath. "Be a good boy scout."

"Well it's not just because of Ryan," Steve said, a latent defensive tone emerging. "I'm also just more rested in Ship Bottom." He caught his words and smiled graciously at Pete. "No offense."

"Okay, I'm just gonna make the executive decision here," Ari said. "They're going back to Ship Bottom. We have nowhere for them to sleep on short notice."

Pete frowned, but nodded nonetheless. "Alright, just a suggestion." He quickly perked back up. "Well, safe trip, and good luck tomorrow!"

Steve and Thor courteously smiled, nodded and waved as they shuffled their way into the truck.


	8. Chapter 8

A little after midnight, Steve climbed out of bed and crept out onto the balcony. He scanned the horizon and soon found the bright, blinking light off north on the horizon. It looked to be over water offshore, but Steve's branded memories pinpointed the light to the exact intersection. The light was like an old, childhood song. Steve tapped on the railing, not just to track the code in which it spoke, but to also drink in that old melody.

"You're letting in a draft," Thor said.

Steve sighed and leaned on the railing. He looked over his shoulder to Thor's stern, scathing face.

"Is this why you didn't want to stay in Manahawkin?" Thor said.

Steve rolled his eyes and stretched his neck. "I'm going to bed." He straightened up and made his way inside, slipping past Thor.

"That's New York isn't it," Thor said, jamming the brakes on Steve. "That light – that's New York, right?"

Steve stiffened his posture but refused to turn to his friend.

Thor shook his head. "You know, you go on and on about keeping a low profile. But you won't just let us leave."

Steve snapped to face Thor. "We can't leave these people."

"There are other people, Rogers!"

"That's not the point."

"No, that is the point! To hell with New York! To hell with all this!"

"So, why go on all these missions, hm?" Steve retorted. "Why tomorrow?"

Thor shrugged and shook his head. "Because why not?"

Steve folded his arms, his stance, like his face, now firmer.

Thor sighed and threw his arms at his side. "Let's just rest up for tomorrow." He stormed over to his bed and flopped down on the pillow

Steve meandered inside and set himself on the end of his bed. He itched with Thor's words crawling under his skin. Once he heard the snoring rumbling from Thor's chest, Steve was drawn back to the balcony where the light in New York still faithfully blinked. The pace didn't change. The pattern didn't change. Satisfied, Steve retired for the night.

They were jarred out of sleep the next morning by a staccato wrapping on the door. Thor shoved his pillow onto his head and attempted to wave away whoever it was. Steve lay in his bed, his eyes adjusting, angrily still. He swept the blankets off and staggered to the door. He opened it to Ari's face already seeming over the day.

"About time," they said. "Let's go."

Steve nodded, his head still heavy.

"I'll be in the car," they said.

"Thor, get up, Ari's here," Steve ordered over his shoulder.

"Alright, I'll be there in a moment," Thor croaked, muffled under the pillow.

Steve sighed and got dressed.

Dressed in hoodies and jackets against a cool day, Thor and Steve approached Ari's truck. Steve climbed in the backseat and scooted down behind Ari, expecting Thor to climb in next. Instead, Thor held at the threshold for a moment then shut the door and climbed in the front seat. Steve rolled his eyes, shaking his head at the window.

Ari's jaw was tensed up as they got the truck in gear and pulled off. The ride along 72 was silent. The clouds were thinner than they had been the past few days. The sun's shape was more apparent and not just an amorphous glare. The world's slumber was much more apparent in the sun's stronger light. Everything was mud or overgrowth, and any homes or other structures left standing were all the same sickly pale, truly looking like corpses as the rain dried off in the wind.

The monotony was grating. Ari blinked at shorter intervals to stave off hypnosis as they drove through the nothing that was Hwy 9 down eastern mainland New Jersey. The highway remained in the land like a spiteful scar, even in places where the road had eroded away. Like they were an automatic transmission, Ari shifted into the next gear, but it slipped into a higher gear and the truck cut out.

"Ugh, fuck right off," Ari grumbled as they stomped the clutch and retried the ignition.

The truck sputtered back up and continued its drudge.

Ari sighed, heavily and emphatically. They looked at Steve through the rearview and swiveled their head in a glance at Thor: their positions and blank, vaguely angered expressions hadn't changed.

"You guys gonna be ready for this?" Ari said, their voice acrid.

"Yes," Thor replied promptly, indignant about the challenge.

Steve threw a hand up to illustrate the obviousness of his answer.

A little before midday, they entered the city limits of Atlantic City. Ari followed the Expressway into town to the Convention Center, then followed the Brigantine Connector up to Venice Park.

"Where was your truck again?" Ari said.

Steve cleared his throat as he glanced at Thor. Thor sneered at him in the rearview before catching Ari's frosty stare.

"On the...on the other bridge," Thor muttered.

"Which other bridge?" Ari said.

Steve and Thor dug into their silence.

"Oh...don't tell me on Absecon," Ari said.

Still more silence.

"Really? You guys didn't know that bridge has been out for, like, ever? Even I knew!" Ari chuckled at them. "And you guys were actually around before the war!" Ari's chuckle burst into full laughter. "God, you guys are idiots. This is why I gotta drive you now."

They followed a roundabout route to Borgata Boulevard to avoid the Gennisian hold on their way into Harrah's Resort. Ari stopped the truck at Harrah and Renaissance Point. Under the loom of the hollow tower, in the valet parking, Steve and Thor crawled out of the truck and collected their gear out of the truck's bucket. Ari sat behind the wheel, the door ajar, having a few drags of cigarette. The men, with their bags and weapons slung up on their backs, wished Ari an obligatory "safe trip," which Ari acknowledged, cigarette in mouth, with an absent wave as they got the truck turned around. They ducked into the foyer of the building as Ari traced their way back out of the city.


	9. Chapter 9

Harrah's Resort was a larger complex with its own little pseudo-peninsula in the northwestern nook of the city, just the west side of the Brigantine Boulevard bridge. Out of the drab crumbs and flakes of the resort being re-consumed by the ocean on the west side and the local flora on the east, a hotel tower rose up tens of stories. The interior was a colony of hallways and stairwell columns. As Steve and Thor climbed their way through the tower, the concrete appeared sturdier: the moisture and stress cracks were less and less.

Steve felt stones in his lungs as they climbed the south stairwell of the south tower. The stairs were relatively steep, meant to either be descended in emergency or scaled by conditioned firefighters, or Thor or any other Avenger, or at one time Steve.

They emerged on the 25th floor after half an hour of climbing. The air was sharply colder than in the insulated stairwell. The tower had once all been glass, but the building's frame having shifted from the abuse of the elements had shed that shiny skin. They found a room off center on the south face of the obelisk. There was a clear view right down the coast, right over the Borgata and its plaza.

Thor lifted the Predator off his back. He snapped the bipod down and rested the rifle up against a radiator at the edge. Steve carried his heavy body, his skin tightening around him, over to a pillar by the windows. He plopped down and snatched his pill bottle out of his pocket and gobbled down a pair.

Steve fumbled the bottle out of his hand, flinching at the sudden abrasive, gravelly scrape of metal on rock. The little plastic container clicked across the ground as the few remaining pills sprung out. He irritably looked, as he crawled across the floor recovering the container and its contents, to see Thor dragging a pair of plastic chairs over to the window. The plastic seats and backings were cracked and flakes of rust sprinkled off as he set them down at the window.

"I'll take first watch," Thor declared, planting himself in a seat and setting the rifle.

Steve sighed and scooped the pills into his palms with his thumb and first finger, the bottle in the other hand. Before replacing them, he unrolled his palm to the remaining capsules he could probably count on one hand. He glanced over his shoulder to Thor who was preoccupied getting the rifle setup. Steve drew one more long breath and dropped the pills back in the bottle then replaced it back in his pocket.

Thor swept carefully over the Borgata as Steve plopped down in the seat next to him. The courtyard and parking tower seemed to be foci of foot traffic. There were streams of people flooding back and forth: they'd march over to the parking structure, disappear inside then re-emerge with covered boxes or sacks.

"Looks like moving day maybe?" Thor muttered.

Steve perked up and looked out to the Borgata. He saw the floods like termites hollowing out an old tree.

"What are they doing?" Steve said.

Thor focused the scope. "Not sure. Some of them are in rags, but it looks like some are in uniform, maybe even body armor."

"Gennisians," Steve said.

"Likely."

Those in uniforms and armor were busily partaking in the hauling of whatever goods had been delivered. A few stood watch, rifles up against their chests.

"How many guns?" Steve said.

Thor pivoted the scope tagging each guard. "Maybe a half a dozen that I can see."

"What are they carrying?"

Thor shook his head and passed Steve the rifle. He peered down the scope and further zoomed the little bit left the scope could go, his fingers finely tuning the focus wheel almost as though they were still.

"We got SCARs," Steve stated, "and ACRs."

"I don't know what any of that means," Thor said.

Steve huffed and passed Thor back the rifle. "It means these are the former military. If they're carrying SCARs they're from the more elite branches."

"Think this is because of the other day?"

Steve nodded. "Yeah, probably."

Thor continued the watch as goods continued being transported for about another hour before the floods faded to streams and the streams faded to drops of people. By the end of the early afternoon, the courtyard was mostly vacant. They sat, intermittently checking the scope of the rifle, for the duration of the afternoon. The winds settled and the ground was noticeably dryer. There were even breaks of blue in the sky of off whites. The colours of the world and the lack thereof was far more emphasized under the light of the sun. There was no brilliant reveal of flowers still standing tall above the soil, or any leaves that still clung to branches. It was still bare, but just more brilliantly bare.

The sun sagged in the sky tracing the bellies of the clouds in blues and oranges. Thor stretched and took one more look through the scope while there was still light. His pupil aligned with the glass and his eyes suddenly widened.

"Hey, Steve," Thor whispered.

Upon no response, he looked up and saw Steve slouched in his chair, his head back and his arms folded like a blanket across his chest deep in a nap. Thor booted Steve's shin, startling him awake.

He gave Thor a grumpy look. "What?"

"We got some on the move," Thor said.

"What?"

Steve shuffled his chair to face the window. Thor returned to peering through the scope. Having just emerged out of the foyer of the Borgata were a group of six people dressed in large-brimmed hats and trailing, cotton coats. Their coats covered their feet and their strides were smooth, as though they just lilted over gusts of air. They seemed to nary speak a word to each other, or maybe they did, but they never even turned a head to break their three-by-three formation. They disappeared into the parking tower then, shortly thereafter a black pickup truck on a lifted chassis cruised out of the building north up Brigantine.

That was the last sign of life that day. Thor and Steve concluded they would retire for the night. They spent the evening preparing dinner: Thor scoured the floor for kindling while Steve set up a spit on which to cook their first can of soup. Thor soon returned with some loose papers and wooden fragments of desks. Steve produced a stick of flint from his bag and struck it a few times with his knife, spitting sparks on the fire's bed to be.

A little after nightfall, and three cans of soup later, the two men were ready for bed. They used their bags for pillows and a blanket each to protect them from the cold concrete. Thor was asleep nearly upon closing his eyes. Steve fished the pill bottle out of his pocket with nary a rattle and brought it in front of his face. He rolled it over in his fingers, watching the three or four pills tumble in the empty space. His mouth straightened, and he put the bottle away. Sleep took its time to find Steve. He knew when they left Ship Bottom sleep might not accompany him, as it was likely out on the balcony still watching that light.

The next day was far sunnier and far windier. It was Steve's day on the scope watching the Borgata. There wasn't much of note that happened, just the occasional civilian milling about in the courtyard. Some wandered about socializing, some returned from hunts, some returned from gathering. The lack of activity was a weight on Steve's eyelids. A person he'd see waiting for a friend in one place, he'd feel like they'd be gone in a blink. Maybe it was a long blink, he thought. If it was long, maybe Thor noticed. He strained his eyes to stay open, clenching his jaw as the one thing he was not ready for was Thor's criticisms. He had done nothing to bring upon Thor's ire or scorn. If anything, it was he who was neglecting the gravity of their current situation–

"Rogers!"

Steve shot up straight, looking around. Was that a gunshot? Was that a bird?

"Steve."

Steve took a breath and turned his head, knowing what it actually was, but hoping he was wrong. Thor was staring at him with a stern frown.

"You zoned out again," Thor said.

Steve felt his cheek, realizing he had been resting on the stock this whole time and not watching the Borgata. He flexed his jaw and reassumed his position.

"Is there a problem?" Thor said with a dig.

"Thor," Steve said with an impatient grown, "I've done a million recons like this. They're boring and sometimes guys zone out." He shook his frustration out and adjusted the scope focus like he was never off the ball. "Today is no exception."

Thor rolled his eyes and folded his arms. "What happened to 'it's a marathon, not a sprint'?"

Steve flexed his eyelids. He was finding the stock of the rifle was so perfectly shaped for resting one's cheek. It sat so nicely under the bone, and he could still mostly see out the scope. Not like much was going on today anyway. It was probably just a supply run, which if these people were cooperating with the Gennisians wouldn't be unusual–

There was sudden weight on Steve's shoulder. It was firm. It was Thor. Steve's back heaved with a sigh and he turned to look up at the disdainful god. Thor's face was softer than Steve expected. There was almost a drop of concern.

"Why don't I take over," Thor said. "Just for the morning."

Steve clenched his teeth behind his lips. He wanted to argue his fitness to operate, but he didn't have it in him to get into another argument with his roommate.

"Fine," Steve said, rising with a stretch.

He vacated the seat and went and leaned up on a wall column at the window, absently watching the city. Thor refamiliarized himself with the rifle and resumed watch.

"Anything?" Steve asked, his arms folded and an eyebrow raised indignantly.

Thor shook his head, his eyes never leaving the scope. "An abundance of nothing." He paused then sat up in his chair, resting the rifle up. "I'm beginning to think anything of interest left with those people yesterday."

"The truck," Steve said.

"Yes."

Steve teetered his head, rubbing a hand up his puffy face. "I mean...maybe. But if these people are under gennisian occupation, all that could have been was maintenance."

"It was a big operation though."

"Yeah, but it could just be prepping for the winter."

"But those outfits? With-with the hats and those ridiculous coats?"

"Might be their brass."

"Eeehhhhh," Thor squeaked doubtfully, peering through the scope again.

Steve shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Things have been like this for a long time, Thor. For us humans, it's a long time. So armies aren't just gonna be wearing fatigues still. Times have change."

"But their outfits were just so weird," Thor pushed. He looked to Steve with a smirk. "You know, there was a time we'd actually and go and investigate weird shit like that."

Steve looked away back over the Borgata before the idea could even reach his head. "Yeah, well, like I said, times have changed."

"Yeah, but they still don't know who they're fucking with," Thor said. "I mean a lot of them probably weren't even around before the war. We're like mythology."

Steve scowled at Thor's profanity, but it just wasn't registering enough for him to put on his Captain Scolding helmet. Though there was still a bad taste in his mouth at Thor's words, but it originated somewhere else. Somewhere far. Somewhere old, maybe.

"If we make a move on them, every Gennisian comes down on us," Steve said, then looked at Thor somberly, "and Manahawkin."

Thor frowned and set his eye back behind the scope. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Too risky."

The sun came to and vacated its peak in the sky as Thor gave the reigns of the rifle back over to Steve. Either he was overtired or the thought of going after the gennisians had him wired, but he felt more aware and awake. Thor was at least convinced of the latter fact.

It was less than an hour from Steve having taken over when a trio of trucks approached the Borgata from the north off Brigantine Boulevard.

"Hey, Thor," Steve said. "More coming in."

"Yeah, I see them," Thor said, squinting against the sun with his hand cupped over his eyes.

The trucks drove into the parking structure and a stream of people drew in their wake.

"This strip doesn't go a whole lot farther north," Thor said, upon losing sight of the trucks. "They must not be too far up the road."

"Thor, no," Steve said.

"Rogers, c'mon, we can take them. They're just some guys with guns! You've done that whole thing before."

Steve shook his head.

"Steve, c'mon, we can't do nothing. Regardless of whether you think we should, we have to do something. You're so worried about Manahawkin, right? Well, they're not far."

Steve sighed heavily. "Tomorrow we head back to town and we assemble a team to check it out."

The third day brought much of the same as the second: quiet only disturbed by the occasional vehicle buzzing in and out from the north. The sun held its line against the clouds for no other reason it seemed than to just shine – there were no birds or trees to enjoy the bright day. Steve was thankful for the quiet day as sleep had largely eluded him again. He was also thankful it was Thor's day on watch and he'd be too busy watching the hotel to watch him.

Late in the morning, a truck a bit shinier than the rest arrived in the courtyard. A group of people emerged from the Borgata to greet the truck. Thor waved Steve over as the occupants of the truck climbed out. They were dressed much like the group of six they saw leaving the other day. The groups exchanged greetings and then walked inside.

For the next hour, nothing happened apart from the usual grinding of settlers doing their daily business to maintain life. Things went about unaware of being under Thor's scope or Steve's eyes and folded arms. Then the group re-emerged out in the courtyard. They exchanged some lingering chatter before exchanging parting pleasantries. The occupants re-embarked the truck and headed back north.

"Well, that all looked very routine," Thor said, relaxing against the rifle.

Steve relaxed too, his breathing laboured and intermittent with coughs. He leaned against the wall, using a hand for support.

"Yeah that was probably–"

"You okay?" Thor said, interrupting.

Steve frowned. "Yeah. I was just gonna say it was probably a briefing or something."

"About what?"

"Just an update on how things are running probably. That's common for brass to do."

Thor nodded.

Steve looked over Thor, a frown still donned upon his face though quieter. "We should get back. I'll radio Ari."

Thor nodded and sat up, collecting the rifle.

The men collected their gear and met Ari on Brigantine Boulevard after the sun set. As soon as Steve's butt hit the backseat, his eyes immediately became heavy. The sounds around him were noisy, but also indistinguishable from the ambient hum of the engine. Thor and Ari exchanged some bickering, but it was incomprehensible. Steve felt like he had been taken out of a freezer and allowed to melt, and so he did.


	10. Chapter 10

The tent was tense with silence. Ryan had everyone who wasn't Steve, Thor or Celeste's field team clear out for the recon debrief, so the sudden sink in the atmosphere around the table was much more palpable.

"They're working with them, not for them," Ryan said, clarifying Steve's statement.

"That's right," Steve said.

"They seem to be operating out of the northern area of the island," Thor said.

"Brigantine," Ari said.

The table looked at them.

"It's all that's up there," they said.

Ryan nodded, his head resting on his thumb and forefinger. "One way in, one way out."

"Just that bridge, right?" Thor said.

Ryan nodded, slowly this time.

"So, let's blow the bridge, leave those fuckers stranded," Thor said.

"Not that simple," Celeste said. "Otherwise we would have."

"So what's the problem?"

"Because of its location, it's easily defensible," Ryan grunted. "Plus, they can just escape across the inlet up to Long Beach. They could be there a while."

"Of course it's fucking Gennisians," Ari muttered.

"And they've got air power," Steve said.

"Which no one else does," Ryan said.

"So, why don't Rogers and I just go?" Thor said. "We're a small team of two, we just slip in there and pick them off. Easy-peasy."

Ari leaned on the table, their eyes narrowed on Thor like he was a child just making noise. "No, it's not fucking easy-peasy."

"Oh, c'mon," Thor said with a wave of his hand, looking to his friend. "Right, Steve? Like, this isn't new for us. Okay, first of all, we got out of Atlantic City on our own and that place was crawling with Gennisians. Plus, Ari, before your day, in our day, we went head-to-head with Thanos' Dark Order. Big, gross aliens with fancy alien weapons and powers. The Gennisians are just cowards who think Thanos was the rapture or something. Small tomatoes for someone like the–like us."

The entire table stared at Thor with flat, exasperated faces.

"Someone like the what?" Celeste said.

"It's potatoes, Thor," Steve said, right over Celeste.

"What'd I say?" Thor said.

"Tomatoes," Ari said. "It's not tomatoes, it's potatoes." Ari chopped the phrase up on the table with their hand. "Small potatoes."

"Ah, yes, the Gennisians are comparatively small potatoes."

"Alright, look," Steve said, firmly interjecting, "Ari's right, it's not easy. They've likely got an army up there and just two of us won't stand a chance. We need a strategic, tactical response."

Ryan huffed. "Yeah, and that would wind up in likely a prolonged engagement, if we actually cleared the town. Which we wouldn't, because they'll just ship in reinforcements from New York."

Steve's eyes shot to Ryan as the name rang like an ache in his head.

"And then they come here for what's left," Pete said with a quiver on his lip. He looked to Thor with a faint glint of optimism. "Well, not as long as you're here."

Thor smiled curtly. "Well, that's very nice, Pete, but we can't sit here and do nothing. Rogers said it, there's likely an army up there and they're just waiting to attack!"

"Which they won't as long as you guys keep your heads down!" Ryan said.

"He's right, Thor," Steve said, noticing Thor's souring countenance.

"No, he's not!" Thor bellowed, smacking his hand on the table. "We can do this! We've been doing shit like this as a fucking profession!"

"Yeah, as the Avengers! But that's not how it is anymore!" Steve's face was bubbling, his chest heaving. His eyes were fragile. He composed himself. "What is though is if you go in there and just start throwing lightning bolts around, our game is up."

"They already know, Rogers!" Thor said. "That ship sailed in Atlantic City!"

"Not like it would if we launch a direct assault on a stronghold. The only reason they haven't come already is they don't want to fight you–"

"Us," Thor said immediately, waving a finger somewhat shaky like his voice between him and Steve.

Steve gave him a look for the sudden interruption.

"They don't want to fight us," Thor reiterated, his eyes wavering from Steve's.

Steve sighed and settled forward on the table. "Look, the point is we don't know how many more of them are out there. And if we attack, we leave them no choice but to respond with everything they've got."

"That means innocent lives here, Thor," Ryan said, underscoring Steve.

Thor's resolve could no longer sustain his composure. His face drooped as he looked over the eyes on him from around the table, all ultimately following Steve's gaze. "Fine, if that's how you all feel. We'll do it Rogers' way."

"Great," Ryan said in feigned relief. "Tomorrow we'll meet and discuss our action plan for a reconnaissance mission up to Brigantine. Celeste, gather your resources and report back to me with what you've got–"

"We're all you need," Thor said.

"Thor, I swear to god, if you don't stop talking for one fucking second," Ryan said.

"What, Caleb," Thor said.

The table bristled at Thor's address.

Ryan rose from his seat, triggering Thor to his feet in response. The two men clashed equidistant, though barely touching.

"My wife and friends called me Caleb," Ryan snarled up at the god standing over him. "You are not my wife. You work for me–" Ryan stopped and cleared his throat of his momentary relapse, feeling the eyes on him. He then returned Thor's gaze. "You're supposed to be working for this community."

Thor only felt Steve's eyes. He turned to him and saw the scolding look.

"All I'm saying, Ryan" Thor said, indignantly emphasizing the name back down at the boss, "is Rogers and I just successfully completed a recon mission without incident. I think we can handle another."

Ryan shook his head and sauntered back to his seat. "No, you're too close to this now."

"I–we, Steve and I, have been close to this the entire time! They're Gennisians! We fought Thanos! For fuck's sake he killed my brother!"

"You know what I mean, I've said what I said, now have a seat!" Ryan barked before plopping down in his chair.

Thor looked over the table. Not an eye would meet his. Not even Steve's. Thor settled into his chair. The remainder of the meeting for him sounded fuzzy and elsewhere. He was overwhelmingly aware again of being a shadow in a shadow. When the meeting concluded, he rose with everyone else, as though he was weightless. He followed the group out through the mess tent. There were still voices around him, some buzzing far away, some close, some sounding repetitive. One was really repetitive, like a mosquito.

A hand landed on Thor's shoulder. "Thor!"

Thor came to and looked to the source of the mosquito hum. Identifying Steve felt empty, but at least Steve no longer looked ashamed of him.

"What," Thor said.

"I'll meet you outside, I gotta to talk to Ryan," Steve said.

Thor completed the motion of nodding and strolled out of the tent.

Steve jogged back to the rear tent where Ryan was pushing in chairs at the table. He looked up and saw Steve standing patiently just over the threshold.

"Something you need, Rogers?"

"I just have a question," Steve said, stepping forward, "about New York."

Ryan straightened up a bit. "Brooklyn, right?"

Steve caught himself, realizing how long it had been since he'd actually ever heard the name of his borough. "That's right, but that's not why I'm here."

"Well, go on," Ryan said, "why are you here?"

"You've got intel on New York, right?" Steve said.

"Of course," Ryan said with a condescending chuckle. "The Gennisians are our biggest threat. We oughtta be familiar with them."

Steve pursed his lips as he tried to find the words.

Ryan stiffened up. "You didn't know about New York, did you?"

Steve hooked his hands on his pants and his head hung pensively. He looked to Ryan. "How much do they have?"

"Long Island seems to be all they care about," Ryan said with solemn sympathy.

"Where Thanos' ship landed," Steve muttered.

Ryan nodded. His face softened and he took a ginger step towards Steve. "Look, now, I don't know how much of this matters to you given what went down in Germany, but Stark Tower's pretty well dead in that hotspot."

Steve's eyes locked on Ryan. "What do you mean?"

"Our intel, going back some time through local radio interceptions, leads us to believe there's some kind of siege situation going on there. Probably holdout like us hiding in the last refuge for the profane there." Ryan frowned deeply. "But because most of the Gennisian resources are concentrated in New York, we can't even get close."

Steve nodded to himself, lost in thought.

"Is there something else, Rogers?" Ryan said, tilting his head to catch Steve's gaze.

"No, sir, that's everything. Thanks."

Steve turned and marched out of the tent to meet Thor.

Ari had brought the truck around to Thor who was waiting at the treeline leaning on a trunk. Ari sighed and tossed themselves back in their seat, already over the car ride ahead. Steve emerged from the park and without a word, Thor joined him in step to the truck. Steve climbed in the front, Thor in the back.

As Ari dreaded, the car ride to Ship Bottom was long and stubbornly silent. Steve had forcibly closed his eyes for a nap. Thor sat in the back with his arms folded up against his chest, scowling out his window.

"Now would be cool to have one of those radios that plays music," Ari said, forcing a laugh.

It failed to register with either passenger.

"You know, because that was a thing from your day, apparently, I hear," Ari said, their inflexion raising with their regret they even spoke.

Nothing still.

Ari sighed and rolled their eyes. "But now instead we get petty silence. Thanks, Thanos."

They adjusted their mirror to look at Thor. His moody position and demeanor was unchanged.

"Alright, you know what?" Ari said. "We're gonna figure this all out tomorrow. Your idea was stupid, get over it!" They adjusted the mirror to its rear view and focused back on driving. "Stop being such a fucking child."

Thor turned his head part way, his mouth shaping potential words, but he didn't want to dignify any of what had happened or how he felt they treated him with a response. He resumed pouting instead.

Ari dropped them at the hotel by the late afternoon. There wasn't a word exchanged as Steve and Thor hopped out and made their way inside to 203.

"Thanks for having my back there," Thor chided as he closed the door behind them.

Steve hung his head back in exasperation and turned to Thor. "Well, what was I supposed to do?"

"Have my back!" Thor said. "Like my friend!"

Steve settled and softened. "We are friends, Thor, but your idea is suicide."

"That's what we do though! Be a group of extraordinary people to fight the battles they never could," Thor said, dropping his voice in an attempt to mimic Fury. "They there in the town are the they, and we are the extraordinary people!"

"Not at the risk of they-them," Steve said with a stumble. He growled under his breath before putting himself back together. "If we screwed up, which Ryan's right, there's no way that'd be a win for us, everyone in Manahawkin is in danger. It's a no-go, that's final."

"Well we wouldn't screw it up, Captain," Thor said, derisively.

"It's Steve or Rogers!" Steve snapped.

"Oh, would you fuck off with that? You never won't be Captain America! To me, or to any of those people out there! Just stop feeling sorry for yourself!"

"I'm being realistic about this! We're not Avengers! I'm not Captain America! Not anymore!"

"That's not just for you to decide!"

"Yes it FUCKING is!"

Thor halted his attack. Steve postured to speak again but was caught in a sudden coughing fit. It was dry and breathless. He took a step to support himself on a bed as he fought for air. Thor stood and watched. His feet wouldn't move. He didn't know what to do. Steve collapsed to his knees in front of the bed, his lungs dragging each breath through his vocal chords as the coughing wore on. For a moment, Steve's chest was tight. He fought the urge to just grab his heart and rip it out if for nothing but some calm. Thor took a half step, but Steve threw out a hand against him. The cough trailed off, the breathing became steady but still laboured. His chest loosened with each controlled breath. Steve lifted himself up off the bed, steadying on his feet. He straightened up and faced Thor. Thor's face was near naked with concern.

"What," Steve flared, his voice grating.

Thor's face darkened and he took a breath, as though he were about to recite lines of a script. "If you're so ready to just hang up the shield, why are you so obsessed with that light out there? You couldn't sleep without it while we were away."

Steve was too dazed from his fit to muster a response. He glared at Thor then stormed to the bathroom.

"Okay, good talk!" Thor shouted after him.

The door slammed and the room was abrasively silent. Thor turned to face the door. His stomach folded in on itself as he heard pill bottle rattle and then the tap run. The water stuttered as Steve drank then the taps creaked off. Thor gusted onto the bed as the door swung open and Steve, his face bubbling with the thoughts he suppressed marched to his own bed, nary casting a glance at his roommate.

That night, Steve awoke and got himself to the balcony. He located the blinking light. Its pattern and pace were still the same. He watched it closer this time: he observed its height relative to the other smaller lights; its position relative to them; the brightness of the ones at the south end versus the north end. He knew now for sure, without doubt, where that light had to be. It was Long Island. It was Midtown. It was Stark Tower. Who else would be sending a distress signal night in and night out, Steve thought, and Stark Tower would be the only skyscraper still with power. He smiled solemnly to himself as Tony crossed his mind.

Steve realized he felt shriveled. His mouth was dry and he felt perpetually on the brink of a yawn. But his stomach turned end over end warning he was weak to go to sleep; there are people in that tower who need help. The fatigue in his brain simply questioned what exactly was supposed to be done about that. There was no response. And so more fatigue in his brain, and rocks in his stomach. But the fatigue wasn't making his eyes heavy. It was now throwing out questions like a heartbeat: What was the point of sleeping?; It'd just make the next day come sooner, and for what?; What was to be done about Thor?; Or Brigantine?; Or the day after that?; Or the day after that?; Until what?

It was before dawn when he awoke again, but this time to an incessant blaring from the parking lot out back. He sat up in bed as whoever it was was urgently mashing a car horn. Steve grumbled to himself as he got his gun off his bedside table and staggered to his feet to throw on some extra layers.

"Get up," Steve croaked as he stumbled to the door," there's someone here."

He crossed over to the balcony door, glancing over his shoulder through the dark to see if Thor had followed, which he had not. Steve grimaced as he reached the door and pressed up against the frame. He curled his hand on the handle and swiftly slid it open, stopping it before it could creak. He crept onto the balcony in the milky pre-dawn and looked to the street below. He relaxed and stood up, seeing Ari getting out of the truck. They were traced in a shimmer by the truck's lights carving out the still soupy night.

"Steve!" they exclaimed in surprise.

"Yeah. What's goin' on?"

"Is Thor there?"

Steve paused a beat at the question. "Uh, yeah, he should be in bed."

"Can you just check?"

Steve sighed and slid his gun in his waistband. "Sure, c'mon up."

Ari shut off the truck and rushed around to the hotel entrance.

"Thor, get up. Ari's here," he said.

Upon the silence, Steve stepped towards Thor's bed.

"Thor."

He stopped just before the bed and reached out for the blankets.

"Hey, Thor?"

He set his hand on the blanket and swiftly yanked it off the bed. Underneath was a pillow and a mattress. Steve growled furiously as he shuffled across the room to the closet. The front door swung open as Steve rolled the closet door to one side. He counted the Predator and the box, but no axe.

"I knew it," Ari said.

Steve looked to them, his face many shades of exhausted and infuriated.

"Get your shit," Ari ordered. "We gotta go."

Steve grabbed his rifle, put on clothes and carried his field bag outside as Ari got the truck started back up. They took off in a hurry back west.

"Is he in Manahawkin?" Steve asked.

"He was," Ari said.

"What do you mean?"

"I got woken a little while ago by alarm bells going off. A bunch of our guards had been hurt in a fight and whoever it was took one of our trucks."

"And the only one who could take all your guards by themselves is Thor," Steve said.

"Yeah, basically. Probably flew in from here."

"So, then, where are we going?"

"Where else would Thor be going in such a hurry?" Ari said.

"Right," Steve said nodding.

They drove the route they had taken in to Harrah's but continued on north up the Brigantine Boulevard bridge. Ari killed the lights and stopped just before the peak. The peak of the sole way in and out of Brigantine was in wide open air for miles around.

"We're walking from here," Ari said, popping the front door.

Steve hopped out and grabbed his bag out of the bucket. He armed his rifle and nodded to Ari.

"Keep your head down," Ari said as they began their trek, keeping a low stance.

"Marathon, not a sprint," he half-heartedly said to Ari.

"Wait, did you bring your pills?" Ari said.

Steve shook his head.

Ari frowned, a small pit collecting in their stomach. "You're out, aren't you."

Steve looked to his feet in a scowl.

"Steve," Ari prodded.

He looked up to them, his scowl burning hot. "I'm fine. We gotta move."

Tripped up by Steve prickling up, Ari paused a beat but quickly nodded.

They came down the other side of the bridge in a plaza strip. The storefronts were largely boarded up. The vast parking lots were near entirely empty, save a few old shells of transport trucks. There was a gas station at the corner with a single car left behind at the pumps that was nothing but its metal cast.

"Stay on your toes," Ari said, their voice soft, looking over the strip mall.

Steve nodded as they continued up Brigantine Boulevard. They reached a roundabout a quarter mile in. Ari led them in behind the pumps at another gas station on the southeast side as they assessed the situation. They pulled a map of the Atlantic City area out of their back pocket and traced their finger up to Brigantine.

"Okay, if we keep going north, we end up on West Brigantine which seems to be the main road," Ari reported. "But if we hang a left, we'll be on Bayshore along the water. It runs parallel to West Brigantine, so we can avoid what would likely be a meat grinder."

"Okay, lead on," Steve said.

"Cover me," Ari said.

Steve took a knee and scanned over the roundabout through the sights of his rifle. Ari scuttled across to a parking lot on the southwest side and ducked in behind some trees at the sidewalk. They then assumed the firing position as Steve dashed across the way to meet them.

They pushed west on Bayshore, hugging the southside of the street, largely comprised of boathouses and marinas. The water had encroached farther up a number of launches and had brought a boat or two up with it. The hulls had long ago been breached so most of them were partly submerged in the still, off brown water tainted with rust and oil. One of the boathouses had been blown out in shards clear across the road, like a bomb had hit it. As they continued up the road, they saw the tattered, rusted remains of a Cessna at the center of the wreckage. Across the fuselage and the immediate ruin were tinges of a grey residue. Steve's face reddened as he closed the lit on the boiling pot of emotions that cooked down inside. Ari watched the veins in Steve's head bubble against the skin as he stumbled over the debris in the road. They let their eyes wash over the plane. They tried to understand what they were seeing, especially as they noted some of the debris at their feet had similar grey marring, but their head quickly started aching.

The north side of Bayshore was all residential throughways out to West Brigantine. Like the strip mall at the bridge, the houses were boarded up and secured. The farther Steve and Ari progressed, the more eyes started peaking out from the boards. Every other house there was a face watching them from the darkness inside. Steve couldn't take his eyes off each person and their sleepy curiosity.

"It's alright, as long as they're not Gennisians, we should be fine," Ari said.

"But aren't they?" Steve said.

"Probably not. They haven't attacked."

"Then why haven't the Gennisians wiped them out?"

"They don't need to. I really doubt any of these people wanna fuck with the former United States Army."

Steve frowned at this explicit reminder. He had always wondered how many of the good Catholic and Christian boys he had fought with a century ago had descendants now descended into Gennisism. The humour of it all was bittersweet, imagining having to tell those boys their great, great, great grandkids might grow up to worship a big, purple alien and kill in his name. All based on the belief their God had sent him to purge all the sinners and leave the world to the pure. The smile became more morose as he thought of how he'd have to tell those boys that the people that tried to stop the big, purple alien would be remembered as the Devil's army; that Steve Rogers was remembered as Captain of the devil's army.

The sky was a pale, ashy blue as the sun was about to make its return. Steve and Ari had made it more-or-less to central Brigantine. They were coming along the shore of the Baremont Quarters, a little bay probably excavated out for extra boat parking, when the morning sky suddenly turned red. Steve and Ari turned their heads upward and spied the sharp increase in cloud cover coming over them.

"Red sky in the morning, sailors take warning," Steve muttered to himself, looking from the water back inland.

Ari turned to him with a tired swagger. "Dude, that was so lame."

Thunder crashed over the houses a few blocks in. The morning was awash with pale, blinding light as bolts arced from the sky, the air bubbling and popping around them. Like a balloon past capacity, the atmosphere cracked and exploded. There were screams and shouts. Steve's ears picked up the familiar pop of small arms fire beneath it all.

"That's gotta be Thor," Ari said.

They turned back a block and went in on 9th Street, trying to stay behind the action. The sky continued to darken and the thunder continued to roar and rumble. The flashes of lightning illuminated the house façades, the action having drawn more curious faces out of slumber, their eyes lit up in the flares.

They got to West Brigantine, which now looked and sounded like a proper warzone. The gunfire was at its most intense here, as were the lightning strikes. Gennisian trucks littered the roads, cooked right through, like the charred remains of their crew. Bodies were cast all over the boulevard, some missing limbs, some with severe burns, with blood pooling about them. The buildings around had sustained damage, some with smoke pouring out of their roofs mixing with the now black sky above. At the center of it all, Thor danced through the battle, his axe twirling through his hands as though it never touched his skin. When be brought Stormbreaker down on another platoon, or another truck, the lightning from above came down with it and the fireballs plumed over the street like another sunrise

Ari and Steve lay down supporting fire. They used the burnt out trucks as cover for their push to close the gap between them and Thor. Thor outpaced them though, steadily carving through the Gennisian resistance, no matter how they poured in trucks and troops. He flashed from one side of the street to the other, like a bolt himself, scattering bodies with great force. He perched atop a building, leapt into the air, and then like a meteor crashed to the road, bringing a column of lightning down, the road erupting from the force and heat. Steve and Ari ducked in next to a building as a truck chassis smashed end over end down the sidewalk out of the air.

With quick, concentrated bursts, Steve and Ari mopped up a small pocket of troops Thor missed then pressed on again for another block, taking advantage of most of the fire staying on Thor. The gap between them and Thor began to close. He stalled about a block ahead at a wall of trucks blocking the road. Thor dodged out of the way up onto another lowrise building, leaving Steve and Ari exposed mid advance. The 50 caliber canons in the buckets of the trucks settled on them, as light machinegun fire sprayed down the road out from storefronts on either side of the street. Steve and Ari bolted inside as the road was chopped up. Craters burst in their trail as the Gennisians unleashed the booming 50 caliber guns, sifting dust and stray glass all about.

"What the hell is so important about this place!" Steve shouted as they slid into cover.

Their building shook under the weight and force of another explosion. Cracks spread like spiders' webs through the ceilings and walls. They darted out a side door into a service alley and into the next building. They noticed the wrath of the mounted guns and become focused elsewhere as their location was no longer being pounded. They crossed through into a third building, evidently the source of the explosion. The front wall and most of the ceiling were gone. Personnel and equipment lay all about in crumpled messes.

Gennisians on the street spotted them exposed in the ruin.

"Hostiles!" one shouted as he lead the fire.

Bullets drilled through the concrete as Steve and Ari dodged out a rear door into another alley. They followed it across 10th Street and down between some homes and Brigantine Avenue businesses, ducking in the rear door to a restaurant. They ducked behind some tables as Thor bounded off the street like a rocket into the Wawa across the street. Lightning followed and pierced the roof, sending shingles and stones about like shrapnel. They looked to the street as another convoy of trucks rolled in, bringing with it further reinforcements. Stragglers from the southern end of the street regrouped at the intersection and for a moment the street was silent, save for the carnage inside the store.

The air snapped and rattled under the power of Stormbreaker and the personnel within shrieked in agony as they went down. And then the store too went silent. After a moment, Thor sauntered out. He was filthy from head to toe in the destruction of Brigantine. He was winded too; Steve could see his chest heaving with the breaths. Every gun in Brigantine was now trained on Thor. A Gennisian soldier stood at one of the trucks, their arm raised.

"Stand down, Thor, final warning!" she shouted, her voice faintly echoing in the open air of the early dawn.

Steve fumbled for his radio out of his jacket. "Man-hawk, this is Star, requesting immediate backup–"

Ari snatched the walkie talkie and set it on a table, switching it off. "Steve, no, they'll die

"Thor, lower that weapon!" the soldier barked.

Ari and Steve snapped to, seeing Thor with Stormbreaker raised clear over his head. They could feel the electricity in the air through their skin and the hairs on their arms, now upright. The bolts in the air hissed and whirred as Thor built strength. Some of the Gennisians shrunk back behind the trucks as the axe grew bright with energy, much like Thor's eye. Everyone flinched as thunder crackled. The lead soldier backed towards the truck.

"Hey, Bubbs," a soldier behind her said.

She looked back to him. His glassy eyes were glued ahead, his face like the rest wrung with terror and illuminated in the pale blue of Stormbreaker's glow.

All he could manage was a tremoring whisper. "We can't stop him."

Bubbs' face shimmered with the same terror.

With the full weight of his body, Thor brought the axe down into the earth. A tide of electricity burst across the street, engulfing trucks in great fireballs and roasting personnel through to the bone, their clothing ignited in flames, though some were slow to collapse. The surviving Gennisians on the end of the formation in shock at the brutality, Steve leaped up and vaulted out of the restaurant. He sprinted across the street and through the parking lot for Thor.

The Gennisians came to and sighted their weapons.

"Open fire!" one called.

The boom and pop of every Gennisian gun was deafening for Ari. They ducked under a table, their hands over their ears. The tables quaked and chairs fell over. The parking lot and the walls of the Wawa were shredded. Steve bailed course and leapt for the relative safety of the Wawa's front doors, but he felt himself dragged violently off his course. He crashed to the floor inside as pain split and rang his upper back.

"STEVE!" Ari screamed. "Dammit!" They bolted off like a hare, vaulting out the window of the restaurant and dashing across 9th Street.

Thor roared as he flung Stormbreaker to the south flank, and like propeller through a corn field it chopped through the enemy ranks. He dove and leaped after it to catch it as it boomeranged back around. He got a running start then leaped to the top of a fried truck and flung it at the north flank. The Gennisian force scattered to avoid Stormbreaker's blood wrath. Some escaped, but most were severed or gored. Thor leaped to the parking lot, catching his axe and charged to the Wawa.

Ari skidded around the corner in through the Wawa front doors. They tucked in behind the frame as bullets rained in after them. A strained grunting emanated up from the floor. Ari looked to see a bloody Steve Rogers trying to pull himself along the floor out of the line of fire.

"Hang in there, Steve," Ari coached. They poked their head back out, waving down Thor. "Get in here!"

Thor ducked in through the front door like a whirlwind. He and Ari, like one body of four arms, swoop down to grab Steve and haul him behind the clerk's counter at the back.

"Gimme your pant leg!" Ari said, producing a knife.

They passed the knife to Thor's outstretched hand, then writhed their way out of their jacket. Thor severed the pant leg and handed it to Ari. Ari took the knife and severed their jacket sleeve, then pressed the pant leg to the wound and tied it with the sleeve around Steve's shoulder.

"Steve, you with me?" Ari said, patting his face. "Steve?"

His face rolled in response, muttering sleepily.

"Ari, we need to hold that line," Thor said, jabbing a finger back at the parking lot.

They nodded. Thor grabbed Steve's rifle and ammo, then they took up position at the window.

Those that had escaped Stormbreaker regrouped back on their flank positions. A few assumed the mounted gunner positions. Thor lay down fire on the north flank, Ari on the south. They managed to keep things too hot for anyone to get set up on the mounted guns. The incoming fire was heavy nonetheless from the great Gennisian army that had assembled.

"We're in a fucking stronghold!" Ari shouted, reloading. "We can't hold them off forever!"

"They've amassed an army here, and we need to find out why!" Thor retorted between bursts.

"We can't do that if we're dead! Your friend is dying over there! We need to fall back!"

"Then you fall back and keep Rogers stable! I shall press on! This can't be for nothing!"

Ari bore their teeth, armed with an irate counter, but quickly settled on Thor's idea. They retreated behind the counter and kept pressure on Steve's wound. He was fading and the tourniquet was becoming soaked in blood. They pressed their hands to the wound to slow the bleeding.

"C'mon, Steve, stay with me here," they said. "We're gonna get back to Manahawkin and then you can give Thor the business."

Steve smiled and made a small noise of accordance.

Ari looked at Steve, but the hope drained further from them seeing Steve's increasingly pale face and dry lips.

"I'm sure you've got some words for him, huh?" Ari continued. "Marathon, not a sprint, right?"

"Yeah," Steve croaked, his eyelids heavy.

Ari chuckled, wiping their hand over Steve's face.

"You're gonna be okay, dude," they gently whispered.

Thor leaped out into the street, bringing enemy fire with him. He danced through each soldier, one-by-one. He moved with swift, smooth twirls, and the graceful accented swing of his arm as be brought the axe clean through the head or torso of each hostile, drawing ribbons of blood that were like streamers for his each next move. And when he finished with one flank, in or two bounds over a truck and off a building, he bore down upon the next with the same centuries-old grace; he himself the embodiment of the storm above that granted the garnish of lightning with each blow landed. The Gennisians continued to pour from the north, but the line they held kept moving back as Thor cut down their forces, beating and hacking them all over the street.

A sharp inhale shot Steve awake. His breaths were fast and shallow and he shivered violently.

"Steve, Steve! It's okay!" Ari said, doing their best to hold Steve down. "Relax! You're just in shock! You've lost blood!"

"I-I-I-I'm c-cold," he stuttered.

"Here take this," Ari said, giving Steve what was left of their jacket.

They helped Steve adjust so they could get the jacket around him, but with every motion Steve cried out from the pain. It was deeper now and it had spread. It wasn't fading like it used to. It was screaming into every nerve in his body it was there to stay this time. There was nothing to punch, no shield to cover behind; he was at the mercy of the pain and Ari. All he could do was hope the latter was successful. The fear cackled that Ari wouldn't be enough and he would die in this store. The cold sang he wouldn't even know when he was gone, and he should just rest now – there was no more fight to be had. Steve's brain couldn't process all these new voices, but there was no way to silence them. They had found their strength in Steve's weakness, and as one grew so did the other. With each drop of blood lost, each throb of pain, their voices gained in volume and force.

"Hey, Steve, you gotta chill, man, alright?" Ari coached. "The more you panic, the faster you bleed out."

Steve fought for control of his breathing, trying to breath deeper and restart a rhythm. "I'm good, I'm good."

"Okay," Ari said. "I'm just gonna roll you on your side, okay? I just need to see the wound. I also don't want you choking on your own vomit."

Steve nodded and Ari tenderly rolled him over.

Thor pushed the Gennisians back to a roundabout off West Brigantine on S Roosevelt Boulevard, right in the center of a residential area. He had progressed into a charge as the ranks thinned, the Gennisians forced onto the defensive. Thor leaped atop a house, then from that momentum sprung up over the street. He was merely a sillouhette under his axe as he raised it high, catching the bolts of lightning as he arced through the air then careened to the ground. The road cracked and fractured under the shockwave and the Gennisian line was once again broken as troops were blown back and more trucks were set ablaze. He never broke his stride as he continued his charge north, guiding bolts of lightning down upon the retreating enemy regiment.

Steve had settled. His shivering was subsiding and he was getting quieter. It was more pronounced now as Ari noticed the rest of the neighbourhood had become quite still. They poked their head up over the counter. The smoke billowed off the road, some trucks still crackled with small flames like campfires, there were still bodies in bloody, ashy heaps about the road. But everything was still. The street had even gotten brighter as the sun had broken the cloud deck.

Ari turned back to Steve and noticed his rigid form. His body twitched slightly from how tight his muscles had seized. He suddenly convulsed as a wave of vomit burst from his mouth and flooded the floor around him.

"Ah, fuck!" Ari hissed.

They got to their feet and ran to the back of the store. They whisked into the breakroom and rifled through any unopened desk or container. They ripped the first aid kit off the wall and tossed away anything that wasn't Aspirin. They found an off-brand 80 mg bottle and dashed back to Steve. His breathing was strained and off rhythm, and his body still twitched in tension. Ari opened the bottle and got out a tablet, setting it in Steve's mouth. They massaged his jaw, getting him to chew the tablet.

"C'mon, bud, just hang in there," Ari recited.

Steve began chewing on his own, so Ari grabbed their radio off their waist.

"Man-hawk, this is Patriot! Requesting immediate med-evac! Star is critical! I repeat! I need immediate med-evac! Star is critical!"

Thor streaked up East Beach Avenue, simply following where reinforcements continued to come from. The street was tight and crowded and Thor could feel himself grow tired from the prolonged engagement. Still, he and Stormbreaker carved a river of blood up the road and over the houses, inching closer to whatever it was the Gennisians were so desperate to protect.

Thor landed on the street and flung his axe in a radial pattern out ahead, cutting down an advancing platoon. He deftly called Stormbreaker back to his grasp. He paused when he realized there wasn't a barrage of bullets waiting for him just beyond. There were a few trucks a ways up the road, but they were not advancing. Thor smirked to himself at just how quickly he had managed to turn the tide of this battle.

"Surrendering already, are we?" Thor gloated, marching forwards.

Streaks whistled to the ground and Thor was engulfed in two great blasts, flinging him through a house in a great crash and explosion of rubble. The skies brightened over the neighbourhood and the storm subsided. Thor emerged from the dust, steadying himself on his feet. He strode out to the road under the chopping of rotors in the sky. He looked up to see two helicopters, armed to the teeth hovering a few stories up. Thor now back in view, the choppers' machineguns buzzed as hellfire rained from the sky all around him, bursting through houses and tearing up dirt, creating thick, acrid clouds of dust and debris. Thor leaped onto an adjacent house and skittered off north, the choppers in pursuit. Rockets whizzed in around him, the houses behind him bursting in geysers of dust and fire, the road becoming upended and shards of rock clashing with his path. He dodged back and forth across the street to keep the chopper fire off of him as the stream of bullets peppered everything the missiles hadn't touched.

In the very northeast end of town, just before Brigantine becomes a peninsula reaching to kiss the southern tip of Long Beach, Thor's crusade came to a halt. The last of the Gennisian forces on the island had collected, blocking multiple roads with regiments of trucks and troops. Thor skidded to a stop on the roof of a house, peeling up shingle in doing so. Beyond the hostile forces, Thor could see an open field with short grass and small, decrepit-looking industrial structures: what looked like a small factory with its smoke stack, and a single-level, windowless building with an antenna atop it. Also about the expansive, flat field were a handful of large mess tents. Just beyond the tents was a large, bulky cargo chopper. It sat in a large, square perimeter marked by short, orange flags at the corners.

"That's what all this is for," Thor muttered.

He secured Stormbreaker to his back then leaped high in the air as a missile careened into the house he had been on, eviscerating it into dust and smoke. Thor kept his trajectory steady despite the shockwave and latched onto the skids of a chopper. The chopper started swaying wildly as the pilot attempted to shake the intruder. Thor used the momentum to heave himself up onto windshield. He popped the encasement up and tossed the pilot out. He leaped into the cockpit and swung the chopper around in a wild bank, spraying machinegun fire through the air, slicing the other chopper out of the sky. It went into a tailspin towards the defensive line. Troops scattered amidst shouting and screaming as the chopper impacted a street and erupted in a fireball, engulfing homes, personnel and vehicles alike.

Thor got his chopper steady and unloaded the remaining payload on the scattering forces. The missiles sent bodies and their parts flying in the sky, nearly indistinguishable from the other debris in the blasts. The machinegun shredded trucks and human tissue in messy splatters and explosions of oil and blood. Thor got the chopper on a course for the field, throttling it as fast as it would go. With the nose lined up with the factory, Thor leaped from the cockpit. Mid-fall, he snatched Stormbreaker off his back. The chopper-turned-missile struck its target, bringing the facility and smoke stack down in a crumbling heap, swallowed in a dust cloud. Thor struck the road, emitting webs of radial electricity consuming those few survivors still left around.

He marched to the end of the street into the field. Without breaking stride, he flung Stormbreaker long. Bolts arced off the blade as it sliced through the tents. It impacted the chopper with an explosive crash and balls and plumes of fire and smoke. As Thor reached the threshold of the building with the antenna, Stormbreaker whirred back into his grasp.

Inside was a communications office. There was a desk with an old computer and a wall with a large screen and sets of knobs next to it. Behind the desk were four Gennisian holdouts. One wore the black coat and large brimmed hat. He had a pistol trained on Thor. He and his troops all backed in around a shortwave radio as Thor approached. The man never fired as Thor pushed his way through his guard and grabbed the man by his collar. He threw him up against the screen, shattering the glass. The man squeaked as shards dug into his skin.

"Hey, what's going on?" the radio said.

The voice was gravelly, wary, but still firm. There was a quiet authority behind his words. It was reminiscent of Rogers who, before last night, he had never really heard raise his voice. But this wasn't Rogers, Thor thought. He looked to the man he had up in the air he had nearly forgotten about. Thor clenched his jaw as he set him back on his feet.

"Answer him," Thor growled, looming over the man.

The man looked at Thor, the fear in his face more present, as he grabbed the mic off the radio. "Uh, nothing, still here."

"Sitrep," the voice commanded.

The man looked at Thor. He nodded at the man to proceed.

"Uh," the man said on the heels of a gulp, "uh, we're retreating, we've lost too many."

"What about the choppers?"

"All gone."

"Fuck!"

The radio went silent like the room. All eyes were upon Thor now. The troops had holstered their rifles; there was nothing else to do.

Thor took a breath. "Get out of here."

The Gennisians all looked from one to the other trying to confirm they'd heard the raging god correctly.

"Go!" Thor barked.

They immediately turned and hurried for the rear door.

"Except for you!" Thor boomed.

The man in the coat knew who he was and stopped.

"Who was that?" Thor said, his voice breathy.

The man turned, almost daring to allow a smile to cross his face. He managed to catch himself before he tested fate. "Friend of your friend."

Thor's breathing became heavy as his blood boiled. The man in the coat made haste evacuating the building.

Thor turned to the radio and looked it over. A million thoughts raced through his head about what was to be done now. He hoped Brigantine would be the end, but he could hear Steve's voice in his head inevitably giving him the gears back in town. His stomach felt a bit sour and heavy as he remembered where he had left Steve and a bit of him hoped for that scathing tone. He grabbed the radio off the table and breezed out of the building, following the storm's trail back.


	11. Chapter 11

The machine chirped in time with Steve's heart. It was slow, small pulses, but he was alive. He lay still in sedation on the bed, eyes closed, the centre point for the tubing and wiring keeping him alive and monitored. He hadn't stirred. His heart just chugged along despite it all. Ari sat in a chair at the end of the bed, the back facing Steve. Ravi stood at the wall with his arms across his chest. Next to him was the nightstand and upon it the near-empty pill bottle. He and Ari just observed Steve like there was nothing else to do.

"At least his pulse is stable," Ari yawned, rubbing a hand over their puffy, dry face to stay awake. Their eyes wandered toward the nightstand, but they fought their gaze back to the bed.

"Yeah," Guarav breathed, glancing at the monitor, "and his blood pressure is improving. The genny's got a few days' juice still, but hopefully we won't need it." He looked to Ari and his face brightened some. "You did a good job with that dressing."

Ari rolled their eyes sheepishly. "Well, I didn't clean it, so it's a miracle he didn't go into septic shock."

"Still probably saved his life."

Ari fought a smile and nodded.

Knuckles tapped on the door frame and the two turned to Pete in the doorway.

"What's up?" Guarav said.

"Just wanted to see how the patient's doing," Pete said pleasantly.

"It's looking better than it was," Guarav said. "He'll likely pull through."

"That's great!" Pete said.

"Well, we still don't know what recovery is gonna look like," Ari said.

Pete looked to Guarav who nodded at the pill bottle on the nightstand. Pete frowned and nodded seeing the three pills remaining. He stepped towards the bed and looked Steve over: he took note of the deepening wrinkles in his face, particularly the frown lines; bags hung under his eyes; the beard was getting to be equal parts salt and pepper; and the hair was becoming frayed, especially towards the ends. Pete smiled.

Ari scowled at him. "What."

Pete looked to them, his warm smile never cooling. "It's just funny. We've been living like this for about fifty years, and here lies a man who has still seen more than we ever have." He waddled over between Guarav and Ari. He crinkled his finger and took a shaky breath before outstretching his hands to them. "I know this might be a bit to ask, and, yes, I know Ryan would prefer I kept this to myself, but I just want to ask if you would join me in a prayer for Steve." His smile became regretfully gracious. "I understand if you aren't comfortable with that, in which case I will go."

Ari and Guarav looked to one another. Ari's face was strained with the tears they'd dared to cry earlier and the feelings that still wrought within them. Guarav glowered at Pete's request and stared at the floor.

Ari pursed their lips and drew a deep breath. "Yeah, let's do it." They placed their hand in Pete's.

Pete smiled gratefully at them then looked to Guarav. He still refused to look Pete in the eye. He fidgeted with his stance, then with his hands about his pockets.

"I just..."

"It's okay, Guarav," Pete said. "I understand this is still an open wound for you."

Guarav gritted his teeth. "It's just like what's even the point? The only manifestation of God we've gotten was a genocidal alien." His lip quivered and he eased a breath through puckered lips. "My family lived, but they pray to Thanos now. They think that's who or what God is." He looked to Pete as a tear dropped off his cheek, his voice just fragile breaths. "So who else is even supposed to be up there listening?" As the next thought entered his head, the fiery rage brewing within licked at and ignited his force. "'Cause it only seems like it's Thanos, or Thor who might have just fucked everything up for us!" He set his eyes shut, but the flood of tears came all the same. The breaths he drew were no longer enough and he ultimately surrendered, his shoulders rocking as he sobbed.

"I wish I could answer your question, Guarav," Pete said tenderly. "But all we can do is hope there is more than Thanos and that they hear our prayers. Maybe it was prayer that brought Rogers and Thor to us."

Guarav took a few more breaths and cleared his throat. He sniffed his nose clear and wiped the tear streaks from his face. "But what if there's not?"

Pete guiltily flashed his eyes down at Steve. "Then why do anything? Yet here we still are."

Guarav fell silent as Pete's words found their way inside him and dampened the flames. Here he still was. Yes, there was Steve and there would hopefully also be Thor, but also here still was Manahawkin. Here there still were people like him who didn't believe, and maybe they were the ones onto something.

Guarav collected himself and smiled at Pete, yet tears still came, but from a different place. He took Pete's hand and grasped tight. The three shut their eyes as Pete recited a hymn in hopes for Steve's recovery, but should he pass he will be rewarded for all he's done.

"Amen," Pete concluded.

"Amen," Guarav and Ari asynchronously repeated.

"Pete," Ryan's voice rumbled from the door.

The three immediately dropped their hands and turned. Ryan stood with his hands folded behind his back, brandishing his jawline.

"Sir," Pete said. His own wrinkles became deep and dark as his stomach sank like an anchor.

"Pete, I've told you about this," Ryan said with great distaste. He looked to Guarav and grimaced at the messy state of his medic. "This is out of bounds."

"Sir, I just thought it might, um, I just figured it–"

"He asked our consent first," Ari said. "He never forced us."

"So, you were voluntarily complicit then," Ryan accused.

Ari sighed and flapped their hands limply to their sides.

"I've been clear from the start that we don't do...this anymore," Ryan said. "Was I not clear?"

"No–yes, you were, it's just–I–all I wanted to do was just–"

"Sir, you can't blame him for all this!" Ari defended. "It's not like he prayed for Thanos!"

"Ari, that's enough!" Ryan barked. "I'm sick of your attitude! Shut up!" He cooled off and settled his sights on Pete. "You need to leave. Go to your quarters."

Pete nodded and scurried out of the room.

Ryan looked to Guarav, his face softening. "Are you okay?"

Guarav sighed deeply. "I'm okay."

Ari folded their arms and leaned against the foot of the bed. An eyebrow arched as their eyes searched the floor.

Ryan nodded passively. "Good. How's Rogers?"

"Stable," Guarav said. "He'll live."

"Good," Ryan said. "Keep me updated."

"Yes, sir."

Ryan slid his hands in his pockets, his lips stretched in a terse, courtesy smile then left, his head low.

Ari plopped back down in the chair and Guarav leaned up on the wall, his arms across his chest. He looked to them, wanting to say something more, but they ostensibly blocked him out. He adjusted his stance and continued to watch Steve.

As the sun touched the horizon, the Manahawkin guard set up their blocking position on the highway. Thor's shadow stretched long across the road into the fields as he approached at an easy stroll, Stormbreaker across his back, the shortwave up on his shoulder to his ear.

He fiddled with the dial as he listened to different frequencies, each new voice and exchange like a coarse brush over his face and spine. He mouthed some of the words to himself, dead to the world, his legs just serving the separate mechanical function of mobility. He was oblivious to the flurry of armed men and women rushing upon and surrounding him. He stopped when he realized there was a rifle barrel in his face and switched off the radio. He set it next to his feet and raised his hands above his head in a rehearsed manner.

"On your knees!" one ordered.

Thor easily complied.

"Face down and spread 'em!"

Thor lay on his stomach and spread his arms and legs. Two knelt on the sides of his back, one crouched between his legs and pressed their knee to his upper back. The two on the sides brought his relaxed arms in and the one in the middle tied them together in plastic ties.

Thor rotated his head and lay his cheek on the road.

"Alright, okay, I'm caught," he groaned, bored of the ordeal. "I need to speak with Rogers."

Celeste sat with Steve through most of the night, catching pockets of sleep here and there, not wanting to miss him if he woke. He hadn't yet and it was almost dawn when she let herself totally slip under, convincing herself it might be another day before he came around.

She was awoken in a violent start at the touch of her arm. Her eyes shot open and she swatted whatever it was away. Reality set back into her brain and she recalled where she was and the man sleeping before her, except now he was looking at her.

"Steve," she gasped.

"Celeste," Steve croaked, "morning. Sorry to startle you."

She smiled plainly. "Morning."

Steve held his head and winced as his eyes adjusted. "It is morning, right?"

Celeste nodded. "It is."

"Oh, good, I haven't been out long."

Celeste chuckled. "No, you've been down for about a day."

"Shit," he said, sinking in the pillow. He blinked a few times as he stared at the ceiling. His face soon regained the stern look of a soldier. "Where's Thor?"

"We brought him in last night."

"He came back?"

Celeste nodded. "And he wants to see you."

"Well, then I'm on my way," Steve said, lifting himself off the pillow.

"Ah-ah," Celeste said, laying a firm hand on his chest. "You still need rest."

Steve felt the tug of tubes and wires as he sat up. He tilted the blanket up and scanned over his arms to see all the places he was hooked up. "Guess I also gotta get unplugged first."

"Not just that," Celeste said. She cocked an eyebrow and nodded at the pill bottle.

Steve glanced at the nightstand and sighed.

"Not good, Steve," she said with a scolding undertone.

"Well, what am I supposed to do right now," Steve grimly replied, straightening up in his bed.

A disdainful dimple formed in the corner of Celeste's mouth. "We'll check on you later." She got to her feet. "I'm gonna go let Guarav know you're awake."

Steve nodded to her as she left.

That afternoon, Guarav came to check on Steve and cleared him for the short trip to see Thor. Ari volunteered to drive him, despite Steve's protesting that they don't waste fuel on what would just be a ten-minute walk. Guarav insisted that the wounds and dressings were still too tender, an assessment Steve was forced to agree with when he defiantly tried to stand on his own and was met with pain. They helped him downstairs into a wheelchair and wheeled him out to Ari's truck, which, after some further bickering, Steve allowed them to help him into.

The drive into Stafford was under five minutes. The house Thor was being held in was the very end of the street. It was a pseudo-antebellum home that inside had been converted into a jail. Ari grabbed an old pipe out of the bucket, which they gave to Steve as he gingerly stepped out of the truck.

"Thank you," Steve said with quiet grace as he took the makeshift cane in his hands.

Ari nodded and stepped to one side as Steve got himself right on his feet. They went inside upstairs to where the cells were. The hallway was long, narrow and wooden, with an oaky smell of age. Each room had had most of the furniture removed except for the essentials, like bedding, with the doors replaced with steel grates on hinges. They were secured in place by a lever and clasp on the wall and locked with a padlock. Thor's cell, at the end of the hall, was the only one occupied. His had a view of the forest just beyond the home, though all that consisted of was bare branches gently tossed in the breeze.

They paused as they neared his cell, hearing the crackle of a radio. Voices shimmered through periodically, but Thor never said a word. Steve rolled his eyes and shook his head and gestured for them to proceed. Ari unlocked the door and held it open for Steve. He hobbled in, still getting used to his new walking instrument.

Thor sat on the floor next to the radio. He played with the dial as he stared off out the window, oblivious to anyone having entered his room.

Steve cleared his throat sharply.

Thor turned his head to Steve and grimaced. He felt for the volume dial and turned it down.

"Well," Steve said, his tone astringent, "anything you wanna say?"

Thor shook his head slow and spaced out. "It had to be done."

"No, Thor, not like that, we were working on a plan."

"Steve, you don't understand, they were ready for a cleanse."

"You almost got us killed, Thor! This isn't a game! Lives were on the line!"

"Then why are we still here, Rogers? If lives hang in the balance."

"Wha–because we're helping people! That's what we do."

"Is that what we're doing? Because every Gennisian there is wants us. We're not wanted anymore." He paused, realizing Ari was still in the room. "Largely." He looked back to Steve. "And even those who do want us, our presence invites danger."

"What's your point?"

"We–well, you want to do this, be this hero of the people, but we don't have to do that anymore. We're beyond all this."

Ari took a lunging step, armed with a jabbing finger and all the words on fire in their head. Steve put a hand out and they stopped.

He turned to them nodding at Thor. "Could we have a moment?"

Ari's brow dropped as they gave Thor a black look. Steve stepped in their line of sight and Ari's enraged demeanor cooled. They turned and marched out of the room.

Steve turned to Thor, his hands on the backs of hips. "What do you mean beyond all this?"

Thor frowned. "We're not like them. We can do so many things they can't. We're Avengers! You're Cap–!"

"Stop," Steve growled.

"Steve, listen–"

"Thor, I have to take heart meds! I'm winded from climbing the stairs at our place each day! I can't take a hit anymore! I have stretchmarks! I've got chronic pain!" Steve paused. He couldn't feel his surroundings anymore; he could only feel the things he was burning to say. "There is no more Avengers; I haven't been Captain America in more in a long time, alright? I'm getting old, and some day my time's gonna come. And it'll probably be some day soon. And...well, whoever-up-there knows I'm just trying to be okay with that, especially after yesterday, and I need you to do the same."

Steve settled back down and he looked to Thor for a reaction. Instead all he saw was a man – his friend – in a corner with a contorted, hurt look on his face. Steve let his head hang and turned to the door.

"Steve, wait," Thor commanded.

He froze. "What is it?"

"Come here," Thor said. "Listen to this."

Steve turned his heavy body and hobbled back over. Thor got to his feet and helped Steve ease into a sitting position. The two men shared a look for a moment. For the first time they felt like something in the way was gone. It still felt like it was trying to yank something out of them as it went, but there was at least comfort in knowing they shared the experience. But then Steve realized Thor was not looking relieved at all, rather his face read of anxiety.

"Well?" Steve said.

Thor grabbed the radio and set it in his lap. He turned the dial back up and slowly scanned the frequencies. The voices that came through all blended into a cacophony. They all talked about different things: everyday matters such as tending to cattle, preparing flood barriers for the spring and what was for dinner that night; they lamented and mourned the massacre in Brigantine the previous morning, many weeping and wailing as they learned the news of someone they knew that was killed in the fight and they further cursed the Avengers; there was talk about co-ordinating operations for supply runs or assaults on hostile positions threatening their homes; and commonly they talked about each other and all the others out there, about who they'd talked to recently, about who they'd seen at worship, about who was praying and who wasn't, about why the rebels won't just come onboard, about their thanks to Thanos for being granted a new, pure world.

Thor looked to Steve who was swallowing hard, trying to rid himself of the catch in his throat.

His head soon dropped to his hands. "How are we gonna beat this."

"There's nothing to beat. There never was, we've just spent so long here we never knew. This is the world now. They're organized too. I saw a landing pad at their Brigantine base. Had a cargo chopper and everything."

Steve snatched the radio and kept scanning. He came across more American voices, more Gennisian voices, one in the same. No matter how much he scanned he couldn't escape the fact everywhere Gennisians were living their lives, going about their days.

"No," Steve said, hot with denial, "no, Ryan knew. He had to've."

Thor grimaced.

Steve kept scanning still. He needed to hear each voice. Maybe he just needed to be certain there wasn't an opposing voice out there that could prove Thor wrong. Maybe he needed to know if there was some way they could fight this still. Or maybe he just needed to know the magnitude of their failure to realize their situation.

Thor's skin felt chilled as Steve's scanning picked up the voice once again. The same familiar voice he had heard back in Brigantine. The voice like Rogers', but different.

"What's the status on Stark Tower," the voice said, the phrase sounding casual and routine.

"We still can't get inside," a gruff voice replied. "Building's not entirely sound, and there's an infectious disease threat."

The voice sighed. "Alright, just make sure no one gets out. Out."

Steve's eyes immediately became glassy. He felt cold all over and realized he was trembling. He wanted to shut the radio off and throw it far far away, he wanted to punch something, he wanted to do anything but keep listening to this voice he couldn't ignore. He looked to Thor. Thor looked remorseful for what he had showed Steve.

"Buck?" Steve said, his voice so small Thor nearly missed the word.

Thor's face deepened into a somber frown. He nodded.

"But he...I watched him–in Wakanda...I saw him..." The memories burned hot in his brain. He ached trying to process how any of this as possible. His brain shorted out. He shoved the radio into Thor's lap and scrambled up his cane to his feet.

"Steve!" Thor called.

Steve hurried out of the room before he could hear either friend say another word. Though not without some difficulty and pain, he scaled down the stairs and out the front door where Ari was enjoying a smoke.

"Take me back to Ship Bottom," Steve demanded, storming to the car before they could say anything.

Ari rolled their eyes and snuffed out their cigarette.

They didn't even bother trying to fill the silent ride back to coast. They could tell this silence from Steve was different. It followed him into the car like a fog. It was something weighty and integral. This wasn't something one could be distracted from.

Steve had his door open before Ari ever stopped the truck. He slipped out and made his way inside, slamming his cane down next to him with each step. Ari frowned, seeing a bit of a hunch in Steve's gait.

As soon he was in 203, he collapsed on his bed, though not without some difficulty. He grunted as he adjusted himself into a comfortable position. He grabbed his pill bottle out of his pocket. He jiggled the bottle and stared at the three capsules left. Probably the last left in the state, or the surrounding states, the country, maybe even the continent. He dumped it on the table.

He lay there for about an hour before he let himself drift. His eyes fell shut and he just let sleep take him away. It was occasionally interrupted with a twitch – an echo of gunfire, the shouting between him and Thor – but some kind of rest soon found him.

He awoke again a few hours later after dark. He sighed and lay there. He couldn't be bothered to be concerned by the fact he couldn't be bothered to get up and go see the light. He tried to go back to sleep, but his brain kept jolting him awake panicking it was morning already. Each time he re-awoke his mouth tasted drier and the ennui was damp around him. He resignedly hauled himself to his feet, propping himself up on his cane and made his way out onto the balcony. He set his cane against the railing, himself leaning on it and watched for the light. It blinked faithfully. It was no longer a nostalgic melody, but rather each blink gave him a cold rush in his core. There was nothing to be done about it though. The only consolation was the light had made it another day.

A knock at the door was sweet on Steve's ears. He approached the door and peered through the peephole. He opened the door for Celeste wearing a stern look on her face. Steve stepped to one side, gesturing her in.

"You saw Thor?" Celeste said plainly, stepping in.

Steve was silent.

"You know about..."

"Yeah," Steve said, "I know about Buck."

"Buck?"

Steve half rolled his eyes. "Sargent Barnes."

"Oh, Buck's like...a thing."

Steve was equivocated as he set himself on the bed with a wince. "Ari and I almost died in Brigantine."

Celeste nodded, seeming neither here nor there.

"I've seen a lot and...this is all gonna end soon for me. And I just don't know what Thor's gonna do." His face started to crinkle as his brow lowered. He turned his hands over, and over, and over, like he was trying to crack the lock in the way of what he wanted to say.

Celeste raised an eyebrow as she sat next to him. "It's just Thor you're worried about?"

Steve looked to Celeste.

"You're not afraid of dying, Steve," she said, "c'mon. You just don't want a quiet one."

Steve looked back down to his hands, bristling. "Brigantine wasn't quiet."

Celeste huffed. "You're not a fighter anymore, and yet you're still out there with Thor starting shit with the Gennisians," her teeth marginally bore into her words, "when you should be resting."

"Saying I'm too proud?"

Celeste sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "You are–you were an Avenger. It makes sense a part of you wants to take that right to the end. That violence that still burns within you. And I get that. For years, every problem you've had could be solved with your fists. But you have to let that part of you go now, at least in part." She gingerly shifted on the couch towards him. "Here is where you can make your golden years count. Whatever or whoever is out there isn't your fight anymore."

Steve, for a moment, was quiet. A tingle sparked across the ends of his nerves and he felt dried out. A tide of emotion swelled within him, but instead of tears came uproarious laughter. His laughter continue into hysterics with each huff, not knowing where to begin with this situation he now found himself in, so far from Nazi Germany.

But it was the realization of that distance that ultimately quelled his laughter and his face was grim once again. "How long they holding Thor for?"

"Honestly, as long as he decides to stay put," Celeste said on a futile breath.

Steve chortled to himself absently. "Yeah."

Celeste set her eyes on Steve. He turned his head, feeling her gaze and met her eyes.

"I think I've said all I want," she said. "Good night, Steve."

Steve went to open his mouth. His insides still boiled, boiling more at the thought of Celeste just walking out.

Celeste's look shifted. "Is there something else?"

The wind just couldn't fill his sails. For whatever reason, now wasn't right. Steve climbed his cane to his feet. "I'll walk you out."

"Chivalry dies heard," Celeste said indulgently as she rose to her feet.

Steve saw her out and watched her down the hall. Once she was gone, he closed the door and turned to the closet. He slid the wooden door aside and tapped his cane on the cardboard box. Little clouds of dust and dirt fell to the floor. He set his cane on the wall and grasped the opposite edge of the box. He painstakingly dragged it out into the hall then flipped the first flaps back. He grapsed the inside flaps and took a breath. He wasn't sure what it would feel like all these years later. He half expected Tony to send some kind of angry sign for what he was about to do, like the lights would overload and explode, burning the place down. He smiled and let the thought wander out of his head. He lifted the flaps back and reached down inside, wrapping his hands around the still smooth, but cold edges of the shield. He braced and lifted, but his arms soon quit on him. It was far heavier than he remembered, or he was older than he thought. He tried again, harder, longer, but soon pain shot through his muscles and he could feel a wound on his back threaten to open. He let the shield fall the inch and a half and he sat back on the floor. He rested back on his hands. His face felt tight. His eyes were starting to well. He blinked hard a few times and flexed his jaw. He got to his knees and determinedly pulled the box over onto its side. The shield rolled out and fell to the floor in front of him with booming clang. He got up into a kneel and got his fingers under the lip of the shield. He put everything he had in his arms and biceps and lifted. With deep breaths and some pain, he managed to get it standing against the wall. He fell back on his hands and caught his breath.

Thor's mind and body itched through the night. He intermittently continued his scan over more excited voices, mainly still discussing Brigantine, into dawn. The farthest he'd heard now was from some people near Omaha. They were relaying to some others about what they had heard about the battle of Brigantine. There was concern now about these remaining powered people. Maybe the armed forces scattered all around would have to coalesce, the people thought, and hunt these holdouts down. He zoned out as the discussion shifted gears to an upcoming leadership race at a settlement near Sioux City.

"You know," a voice at the cell door said with a bit of a drawl, "I figured you'd would've busted up outta here by now."

Thor glanced to the door, seeing Pete resting on the bars.

"Honestly," Thor said, "I couldn't give a shit."

Pete grimaced. "Not about your friend in New York?"

"I don't need counselling right now."

Pete nodded solemnly. "Well, if you don't give a shit now, why did you before?"

"I don't know, 'cause it was fun?" Thor said.

"Because you got to be the hero," Pete said.

Thor exhaled impatiently. "Look, it doesn't matter now why it was fun, alright? It's become abundantly clear we're not wanted anymore." He whirled around and got up, storming over to the cell doors, Pete stepping back with a start. "I mean, Gennisians aren't the problem anymore, they're the norm. Maybe we're the problem."

Pete shrank into himself.

"Ryan knew didn't he," Thor said. "He knew there was never any fight to be had!"

"Well, what about for us, Thor! Good people!"

"What, Pete! What!" Thor bellowed. "Hm? Because Thanos was defeated yet he still won! He's revered now in death probably more than he ever was in life! And there's nothing Steve, or I can do about it!"

"You're an Avenger!" Pete barked. "You're couldn't save Earth, so avenge it!"

Thor shook his head in disgust, coming down from his enraged high. "It doesn't matter. I–we–we had our chance and I failed–agh–we–oh fuck it." He took a breath and wildly dropped his arms to his sides. "Evidently, this is destiny, and with Thanos dead there's no one to avenge Earth to. Or against. Or whatever. I can't do anything." Thor meandered back over to the wall and slid down to his seat. He brought his knees up into himself. "It wasn't enough." The room looked bigger to him. The walls farther away and he apart of the walls. He was flat and invisible, something light just couldn't reach; something it was no longer allowed to touch. "I thought it would be enough, but I just couldn't."

Pete stepped back towards the bars, looking like he was in a doomed plane bracing for impact. "Ari wants me to take the radio."

Thor was still. "Yes, well, I suppose I must prepare at some point for being on my own."

"C'mon, Thor," Pete said softly, opening the door.

Thor never moved. Nothing indicated he even knew or cared Pete entered. He was nearly a ball the way he had curled his body into itself. Pete tip-toed around Thor and stooped down for the radio. He slowly rose, wary of any sudden movement possibly setting the now tiny god off.

"Oh for fuck's–just take it, Pete!" Thor screamed, causing Pete to leap across the room, falling under the weight of the radio.

Pete glared at Thor as he picked himself and the radio up.

"Ah, sorry, I didn't realize how heavy that might be for you," Thor said.

Pete growled under his breath as he breezed out of the room. Thor returned to his slump.

He couldn't help but hear the creaking down the hall under Pete's feet. It became quieter as the wood stiffened at the stairs. Then the stairs grunted and creaked as Pete descended. But then over top was grunting from a person, a man. Over that was a rhythmic thud, like a third footstep. It hit the stairs as they squeaked and whined as whatever made its way up.

"Steve? Wha–do you want a hand with that?" Pete's voice echoed back down the hall.

"No, no, but thanks," came Steve's reply.

The thuds continued across the landing and up the final flight of stairs, more distinguishable from Pete's steps as he reached the ground floor.

"Oh, hello, Celeste," Thor heard Pete say.

There was no response and Thor guessed it was her steps racing up behind Steve.

The thuds turned to a heavy, ringing drawl as Steve rolled something down the hall, sounding like a large bowling ball. Thor sat up as they neared. Celeste raced ahead, making a small acknowledgement as she got in front of Steve. Thor stood as the lock on his cell door rattled and Celeste swung it open. Thor stood dumb. Celeste gestured to Thor that it was best to just not say anything. She stood to one side as the shield rolled over the threshold, Steve in tow. Thor's mouth gaped as Steve, winded and sputtering wheeled the shield up against the wall. He then straightened up, drenched in sweat and his chest nearly ripping through his shirt as his lungs gasped for air despite how he tried to mask his breathlessness.

"That's, uhhh...," Steve said, swallowing his breaths and excess saliva, "that's my shield."

Thor shook his head and pressed his hands down the sides of his head.

They both looked to Celeste. At some point, Pete had returned and was now standing at the threshold of the room, his own face gaping at the relic Steve had just hauled in. No one seemed sure what was more impressive, the shield or Steve managing to get it all the way there.

Thor's eyes fell back on Steve who was looking quite uncomfortable, almost in pain. He noticed a twitch in his legs. He looked ready to double over and throw up, but he was determined to remain glamorously winded.

"Can we have a moment, please?" Thor requested.

Celeste and Pete looked to each other. She gave Pete the same look she had given Thor when she entered the room, then ushered Pete back down the hall. As soon as they rounded the corner onto the stores, Steve collapsed in a groan against the wall.

"I just need a sec," he said, spitting out one side of his mouth. "Got any water?"

Thor shook his head.

"Fuck."

It took Thor a second to process Steve having cursed twice in as many days before he ran for the stairs.

"Can I get some water up here!" he hollered down.

Celeste ran to meet him and handed him off a cup of water. Thor snapped it up and hustled back to Steve. He set it in his hands at which point Steve dumped the entire contents down is throat. His gulps were loud and desperate, at times splashing water across his chin and chest. When he was finished he set the cup down with quenched gasp, his beard beaded with drops.

Thor tapped his foot on the shield. "You did not have this in Wakanda. Where's this even been?"

"In the closet," Steve said.

"What? Like in Ship Bottom?"

Steve nodded lazily.

"Where in the closet?"

"In the box."

"But where–what? Wait, did you have this on the ship – no. What?"

"Look, uh, it's a bit of a complicated story," Steve said, sounding back to normal, "and that's not why I'm here." He set his gaze up at Thor. "We gotta go to New York."

"Steve..."

"No, Thor, I mean it."

Thor shook his head and sat next to his friend. "You wouldn't survive that."

"I've got two or three days of pills left – I'm gonna die soon anyways, but I'd rather it mean something." Steve gestured at his shield. "And I'm gonna need you to get me there."

"You really wanna go?" Thor said hotly, twisting his body around to Steve. "Seriously? Isn't it time to let go? Let go of this world, let go of Barnes!"

"Then what else do we do?" Steve shot back. "There are innocent people trapped in Stark Tower!"

"No, we're above all this! This is no longer our fight."

"Not for you maybe, but it is for me. I'm still one of these people." Steve rocked back against the wall. "Now more than ever."

Thor shook his head lethargically and looked to his feet. "I'm sorry, Rogers, it just doesn't make sense."

"Are you kidding me, Thor? Things get a little hard and suddenly you're just ready to give up the fight?"

"Steve! There is no fight to be had! And let me remind you about who was and was not willing to fight for Brigantine." Thor looked intently at Steve, his eyes narrowed, body sharply tingling. "What happened to not being Avengers?"

"We're not, but it doesn't mean we don't still have a responsibility. At least to Bucky, one of our own."

"He's not one of our own," Thor said with a dark frown.

"Don't," Steve growled, baring teeth.

Thor sighed and knocked his head against the wall, staring up at the ceiling. "If this is what you want, I'll get you to New York, but I won't be going with you." He tilted his head to look at Steve. "There's nothing here for us anymore."

Steve half-smiled and nodded. He drank in another deep breath and settled against the wall. "Look, I'm gonna be honest." He wagged a finger at the shield. "That thing is a lot heavier than I remember, and like I think maybe I'm just out of practice or whatever, but–"

"Yeah, you can rest for a bit," Thor said, though still sour.

"Okay," Steve said.

They sat in silence for an indeterminant amount of time. Neither looked at each other. Neither wanted to be the first to say anything. They just sat against the wall like two boys at recess put in timeout.

Eventually, Steve picked up his cane, got to his feet and Thor watched him make his way to the stairs. Steve came down to Celeste waiting in the front room.

"It's a go," Steve said in passing on his way out the door.

"What's a go?" Pete said.

Celeste swallowed grimly, her eyes piercingly wide after Steve. "Just be at the tent in the morning."

Ari pulled up out front the hotel and popped the truck in park. Steve looked to them with a warm smile.

"Thanks for all the driving today," Steve said. "I appreciate it."

Ari didn't know how else to react, but to embrace the smile that had overcome them. "It's kind of what I do now, I guess." They looked to Steve tenderly, the smile a veil over something more fragile. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Ari," Steve said, firmly patting their shoulder.

He climbed out of the truck and got himself up the flight of stairs to his door. He slept the rest of the day and awoke well after dark. Almost as soon as his eyes were open, he grabbed his cane and was on his feet to the balcony. He spotted the light's unchanged blinking. This time he felt elated and terrified all at once. Every nerve in his body was on fire and alive. He took a deep breath to steady himself. He watched the light for most of the night, until it shut off, something Steve hadn't seen before. He figured it had to just be them retiring for the coming dawn, but still he couldn't help the pit in his stomach. It was like a black hole had just opened up. What if this wasn't the norm? He figured they weren't flashing the light during the day, who would see it, but that was only because he had never looked. What if this wasn't the norm? They'd have no way of knowing the truth until they were already in New York. And if there was no one to save and truly no fight to be had, it would be too late to course correct.

The shield kept Thor awake for most of the night, or such would be Thor's excuse. He kept tossing and turning, ultimately his eyes coming to rest on the artifact. Once he got the questions of where it had gone and how it came back out of his head, the only one he could think was what was he supposed to do with it? Seeing it rest against the wall of a broken-down house, in a world no longer feeling like his own was unsettling. It was like the shield itself was a wart on the flesh of reality. No, Thor thought, nothing so grotesque, but close. He adjusted and rolled onto his stomach, studying the shield seeing as he wasn't getting to sleep anytime soon. The colour had hung on, maybe even been restored. It didn't have the same sheen to it though. There was residue of dust and dirt from sitting in that box he'd walked passed a thousand times. He narrowed his eyes and scooted a bit closer, honing in on a blemish. Three, in fact on the otherwise perfect vibranium surface: three claw marks slashed through the upper left quadrant of the shield. He had seen Mjolnir shatter right before his eyes and now the strongest element in the universe had been scratched.

He rolled onto his back reflecting on the two years he had been away from Midgard. He also remembered the first time he'd seen Steve since returning, at the battle of Wakanda. He was not the same man he had left behind two years prior. Even then, Thor thought, he wasn't an Avenger. It wasn't just the lack of helmet, or the star ostensibly ripped from his chest piece: it was something on his face, in the burly beard, in the windswept hair that had evidently been scorched by sun, stress and conflict; a blonde maybe only so bright because it was already on the brink of grey. The Steve he faced Thanos with was not the Steve he had fought his own brother with just a few years prior.

Steve hauled himself off the balcony like a shotput ball to his bed. He forced his mind to let him at least sleep the few hours left until sunrise. That amounted to about four hours of sleep by the time Ari was knocking on the door to bring him back to Manahawkin.

"Rogers, let's go!" they called. "It's time!"

Steve lay on his bed, his eyes blaring open and bloodshot. He rolled his head to his bedside table and the pill bottle upon it.

"Rogers!" Ari called. "You better be up, man!"

He rolled his head back to the ceiling. His eyes threatened to fall shut again. Every muscle felt drained of fuel.

Ari pounded their fist on the door. "I swear to god, dude, if we're late...!"

Steve sighed and wiped his hands across his face. He sat up off the side of the bad resting on his arms. He took one more breath then got his clothes on and made his way out the door.

He slipped out the door past Ari without acknowledgement.

"Rough night?" Ari called after him as he trotted down the stairs.

"Let's just get this done," Steve replied.

He took advantage of the car ride there to log an extra 20 minutes of sleep and mentally prepare for the meeting.

When they arrived at the tent in the woods, a few people were huddled around the flaps to the rear tent. As Steve and Ari approached, the eavesdroppers did their best not to make eye contact so as to avoid being thrown out. Ari shot sharp looks at a few, sending a handful more out. They entered into the back where Ryan had cleared the room and everyone else had gathered. Ryan stood at the head of the table with a dark look on his face. Thor turned to look at Steve, feeling like last night was a long time apart. He was hoping for some familiar acknowledgement, but Steve's dark expression was locked on Ryan. Steve no longer felt any deference towards Ryan. Nothing about his posture or power shook him. Ryan almost didn't seem real, but like a dust devil about to fade as the storm blew itself out.

As Steve took his seat, he noticed Celeste sitting adjacent to Ryan. She had watched him the whole way in and the expression on her face was morose and guilty. Steve shuffled his chair in, keeping his eyes on the table until someone elected to speak.

"Thanks for being here, everyone," Ryan said. He looked down to Celeste, then his eyes found their way onto Steve. "And thanks to Celeste for the briefing." He took his seat and looked over each face at the table.

Guarav had his arms folded across his chest, slouched in his chair, everything about him distant. Pete sat with his hands in his lap, making himself small. Thor's eyes danced over each person, his hand outstretched over the table flopping like a fish on dry land. Steve sat with his hands folded on the table, gazing deep into the gap between them, also not appearing fully present. Ari tapped their nail on the table doing their best to not look at any of the other faces sitting around them. Celeste looked exhausted, with her hair flared out at points, her hand resting up on her cheek.

"Celeste's made it quite clear what you're intending to do," Ryan said, his voice an agitated mutter. The professional tone that had previously packaged his words had been torn away. "You're no use to anyone dead."

"Well, uh, actually, I...wouldn't be dead," Thor piped up.

Steve flashed a look at Thor. Thor did his best to convince himself he never even knew.

He then cleared his throat. "I just...wouldn't be coming back."

"So, you're willing to put my people at risk for your suicide mission," Ryan said.

"We just need a ride to Newark," Steve said.

The whole table looked to him

"But I need Thor to get me the rest of the way," Steve said.

"And you really want to go through with this, Thor?" Ryan said.

"I do."

"Steve, you'll more than likely die if you go through with this," Guarav loudly whispered across the table.

"I'm fully aware," Steve said.

"This is fucking ridiculous," Ari said. "The thing in Brigantine was one thing, but New York is their fucking holy land!"

"And then what are you gonna do, Thor?" Ryan said. "Hm? What exactly are your plans since you're not coming back?"

Thor shrugged and folded his arms. "I'll figure it out."

"Well, what are we supposed to do?" Pete said.

Steve's arms flexed as he tensed up.

Thor sighed with a small shake of his head. "You'll figure it out."

"Yeah, that's really great, Thor!" Ryan shouted. "You're leaving us for dead!" He wildly flew to his feet and flung his chair across the room. It smashed against a desk as everyone leaped back in their chairs. "We fucking trusted you!" He banged each word out on the table. "This whole goddamn time we trusted you! And this is what we get!"

"We trusted you!" Steve bellowed, shooting his finger like a bullet at Ryan. "We trusted you! And this whole time you've been holding out on us! This whole time you knew we would never beat the Gennisians!"

Every head at the table swiveled stiffly from one to another. The motions were small as though they were all attached to trip wires that could detonate either of the two irate men.

"Rogers is right," Thor said, getting to his feet. "Ryan's known all this time the Gennisians are everywhere! Look at this place!" Thor turned on his spot with his arms outstretched to all the chalkboards with coordinates and the maps of the US. "He knew and he lied to us! All of us! This whole conflict has been a lie! The Borgata was a fucking setup, wasn't it!"

Thor and Steve felt a rush through their blood and nerves. They knew they had just blown the hole in the dam that would flood Manahawkin and it would collapse and drown its own corruption. But all eyes were on them, not Ryan. There wasn't burning contempt filling the air in the room like smoke, but rather they felt prickly under the humidity and steam of pity.

"We knew, Thor," Celeste said gently. "How could we not?"

"What?" Thor said, beleaguered.

"You didn't think in the last 50 years we wouldn't notice Gennisism spreading?" Ryan boomed, almost with a laugh. "We gotta shortwave, too! It ain't just New York." He smugly looked at Steve. "They're our biggest threat, we oughtta be familiar with them."

"Wait, I don't understand," Steve said. "You all knew? But why the missions why all the–?"

"The missions were your ideas," Guarav confessed.

"You guys wanted to go to AC for heart meds," Ryan rattled on. "Thor, hell, you were the one who wanted to do that recon mission at Harrah's. And you were also the one that razed half of Brigantine."

"Wha–what you just – what – humoured us?" Thor said, his face crinkled and frail.

Ryan threw up an exaggerated shrug, his hands slapping his legs. He then went to retrieve his chair.

"We had to," Celeste said. "It did honestly help having you guys make life harder for the Gennisians. They're terrified of you guys: like, Seaside, Atlantic City, Brigantine."

"They're stacking the bodies," Ryan muttered with a chuckle.

"We were protecting the town!" Thor bellowed.

"Oh, spare me!" Ryan said. "You guys got three of our guys killed coming to rescue you!"

"WE DIDN'T ASK FOR RESCUE!"

"Guys!" Celeste shot Thor and Ryan disdainful, her eyes wildly bulging. The air over the table bubbled. People's breaths were deep and heavy. They were becoming restless in their chairs. Celeste took a long, deep breath. "We need you here in Manahawkin, Thor. You and Steve. There aren't many places like ours left, and if we told you the truth, you both would want to go on some crusade across the country in an attempt to kill thousands and thousands of people, largely amounting to innocent families. But here, you gave protection to deserving, good people who know Thanos isn't the way, and killed actually dangerous enemy combatants."

"No, no, no," Steve argued, "we're not – we can stop this–"

"Steve, we literally had this exact conversation last night. You're a fighter. It's in your blood. You're over 100 years old and still can only think to punch your way out of situations!" Celeste's eyes flickered between him and Thor, seeming to age on the spot. "The Avengers were noble, absolutely, but also violent. Plus, there's no rules now: no Geneva Conventions; no Sokovia Accords."

"Hey, we tried to tell you no," Ryan said, pulling back up to the table. "We really did. But Celeste's right, once you guys get on a war path, you just don't take no for an answer. I mean, we could actually have been really fucked, Thor, because of what you did in Brigantine, but our intel right now leads us to believe you fucked 'em up pretty bad and it might take them some time to recover. And, I mean, we also kinda figured if we let you be busy doing your Avengers thing, you wouldn't find out the truth."

"That's why you wanted the radio," Thor said, settling down in his chair, a hot, angry stare fixed on Ari.

They had shrunk into their seat, their hand rested up across their mouth, pressed so tight the skin at the edges was white. Their eyes were red and their faces shifted and clenched violently against a tide of emotion.

"Well, now we know," Steve said, bitterly upbeat. He turned to Thor straight faced. "Looks like you were right, there's nothing for us here."

"Steve–" Celeste pleaded.

"No, you said it yourself, I..." he paused and set his hands neatly on the table, looking to her, "we – Thor and I – we've got a responsibility to those like us."

Thor tucked his chin down, unsure whether to smile or roll his eyes.

"Buck's still out there," Steve continued, "and maybe if he knows we are too, that'll change things."

"And you've all made it very clear we're not like you," Thor said, looking at Steve through his peripherals to test his reaction.

Steve sat firm and unwavering, nodding Thor's words along.

Ryan reclined flippantly in his chair tossing his hands in the air. Celeste's head fell to her hands. The rest were silent, their eyes lowered to the table or their feet. Steve and Thor quickly glanced at each other, both looking grateful to the other.

"I'll drive you to Newark," Ari chirped.

The two Avengers snapped their heads to them.

"Ari, c'mon!" Ryan barked.

Celeste gave Ryan a scolding look then turned to Ari. She set a tender hand on their shoulder. "Look, Ari, you know why we had to do this. Don't now aid them in–"

"In what?" Ari spat, shirking Celeste's hand off their shoulder. "Finding their friend? Trying to do something right? All we've done is lie to them and treat them like shit. I wanna let them have this one thing."

"That's not your call to make, Ari!" Ryan thundered.

"Oh die mad about it, Caleb!" Ari parried. "And, you know what? Just use your fuckin' first name like everyone else! Get over yourself!" They got to their feet and pushed out their chair in one motion. "I'll be in my truck."

The whole table watched them saunter out. Once the flaps closed behind them, they looked to Ryan who's face was nearly the colour of an apple.

"I guess we're adjourned," Steve said.

Ryan was near catatonic in anger. Celeste rose and waved everyone out. Everyone promptly stood and whisked out of the room.


	12. Chapter 12

Ari drove them first to Stafford. They and Steve waited in the truck while Thor ran into the house for the shield. He charged back out a minute later, the shield brandished on his arm. Steve was mesmerized by the muscle-bound, blonde god, with the short tidy haircut. He swore he was watching himself charge through the battle of Manhattan. Thor set the shield in the truck then swung into the back seat.

On the drive back to Ship Bottom though there wasn't time to talk. Steve and Thor were hanging onto their seats for dear life as Ari kept the pedal just about to the floor the whole way from Manahawkin. The look on their face was of quiet, empowered rage. They were on their own crusade of sorts and to them the horizon behind them was ablaze.

Energized from the race home, Steve and Thor made haste getting their gear together. They tossed it into the bucket in under ten minutes and were back in the truck, bound for Newark.

Steve caught Thor's eyes in the rear view and the smile lines at their edges.

"What?" Steve said.

"Just noticed you left your cane on the floor back here when we ran inside," Thor said.

"What? Really?" Steve turned in his seat.

Thor tipped the metal pipe up with his foot. Steve's eyes flashed and he turned back to the front.

"I didn't even realize," Steve said on an easy breath.

"Yeah," Thor said, leaning to his friend between the seat and the door, "probably all the adrenaline." He nodded his head pointedly at Ari.

They both snickered.

"I heard that," Ari grumbled.

The two men sheepishly composed themselves and resumed their seats.

It was mid-afternoon when they entered Newark. They followed the freeway in, taking them past Newark Airport. The dock areas and layover bays were littered with the tubular remains of commercial aircraft, a number of them having come apart. As well among them were a handful of old military choppers with wilted rotors and missing doors. The terminals had collapsed, the walls looking like sillouhettes of mountains with jagged peaks and troughs. In some cases, not far away, was the remnants of the downed jet responsible. At parts they could see right inside to old emergency light standards, a few TVs that still clung to the concrete pillars though their screens were smashed, and even the first class lounge whose tables and chairs somehow remained largely undisturbed. The rubble peaked in the heart of the ruin with the upended tail of a commercial jet. On the runway directly next to the freeway was the crumpled and charred carcass of another jetliner that looked like it had nosedived right into the Earth.

Thor huffed and shook his head. "Thanos was capable of getting all six Infinity Stones yet too stupid to realize that eliminating half the universe kills more than half the universe."

"I doubt he cared," Steve said.

Ari swung the car into Port Newark off a service road. They drove down the approximately quarter mile to the first intersection and rounded the corner. They stopped the truck and truck creaked into park.

The port was largely open land occupied with stacks of shipping crates that had crinkled and their paint flaking. They were mostly the silver-grey of metal now. The road had cracked and faded in parts, but was largely intact, save the part of the sidestreet they stopped on where a railroad crossed: the long uncared for tracks had warped and flexed, tearing the road up with them. Strange smells emanated from all directions. Some were sulphuric, some like burnt meat, some old casserole on a Wednesday night.

Ari turned to look at Steve and Thor. Their face seemed to droop with exhaustion, mentally, emotionally and physically.

"Thank you," Steve said, gently wrapping a hand around their arm.

Thor was solemn. "This is much appreciated."

They turned and clasped their hands to the steering wheel, letting their head fall against it. "I don't know if there's anything I can say to make this better. All I can say is I'm sorry and I hate that we lied to you."

"If it makes you feel any better," Steve said, "even you had been honest, it wouldn't have changed much. We'd still find out about Buck sooner or later."

"And I doubt the Gennisians are dying to share their aspirin caches with us," Thor said, staving off a chuckle.

"Dude," Steve said with disdain.

"What? It's true!"

Steve sighed and looked to Ari who hadn't moved from the steering wheel. Suddenly their shoulders started rocking and their back heaved with staccato breaths.

"Yeah," they said, lifting their head with a defiant grin, "yeah, he's right." They looked to the two men and their grin cooled to a warm smile. "Okay, get out, go find your friend." They tucked their lips together and reset themselves in their seat.

The hum of the truck filled the silence as Thor and Steve, unsure as to how to proceed, slowly climbed out of the truck. They hoisted their gear out the bucket then stopped, a feeling in both their stomachs that was like a magnet holding them to the truck. 

Steve looked to Thor and nodded at the cab.

The two approached the driver's side and Steve opened the door. Ari looked to them, scrambling to wipe their tears away.

"C'mere," Steve said, his arms out.

Ari froze.

Steve sighed. "Look, I know this isn't typically your thing, but–"

They leaped out of the truck and wrapped themselves around Steve. Steve smiled and wrapped his arms around them, cupping the back of their head. He looked to Thor who stood next to them, still looking a bit lost. Steve outstretched an arm to him and Thor smirked.

"Oh, alright, if you insist," he said gleefully, setting his axe and the shield down and wrapping the two into him with a hearty squeeze. "Ohhh, this is good."

"'Kay, but I can't breathe right now," Ari said, muffled between Steve's chest and the precipice of Thor's armpit.

"Sorry," Thor said, taking a step back.

Ari and Steve separated with a gasp for some fresh air.

Ari sniffed and wiped the edge of their palm under their eye. "Okay, now, for real, go. And good luck."

The two nodded graciously. Thor grabbed Stormbreaker and the shield and they began their trek.

Ari watched them go around the corner before climbing back into the truck. They swung around and went back the way they came in, with a parting honk at Thor and Steve as they passed. They waved after them as they watched the truck, now small in the distance, come to the end of the main road and speed around the corner back south.

They hustled back to the freeway, following the I95 north to an open dirt patch between it and Highway 1. Steve guided them through what looked to be formerly a construction site, with the remains of dozers and excavators wasting away in the vast lot. They crossed onto Highway 1 and negotiated the rubble of the overpasses that fallen upon it, and further still the gaps in the highway exposing the underpass below, some of it thanks to the crumpled ruins of a G6 below. Highway 1 turned into the Pulaski Skyway, leading them over the Passaic River, looking sickly from the dead factory sites now bleeding their waste into the water. They crossed an industrial park with buildings suffering the impacts of more downed aircraft. Many of the impacted structures and the surrounding areas were charred black, almost to the point of just being a bunch of crispy flakes precariously stacked upon each other. Once on the other side of the oaky and rubbery smell of the scorched earth, they found themselves over Jersey City.

They kept low, using the concrete barriers for visual cover, but peaking over here and there at any noises or just to keep tabs on the situation below. The city was largely silent. The hollow buildings seemed to be uninhabited, save for a scavenging squirrel skittering across the streets looking for scraps. A number of the rooftops were the perches of crows, cawing to one another and casually scanning the land they now felt claim to.

The freeway wound its way across the island, over Journal Square. Below the Gennisian presence was greater. They were more frequently hearing trucks rumble past beneath them and some of the rooftops had sentry nests. On the streets though were civilians. The buildings were occupied by numerous families that pleasantly chatted to one another as they passed, some hauling sacks of food or other supplies. There posters on the front of buildings here and there amounting to general safety notices and cautioning against wandering anywhere west of Journal Square alone or unarmed. There were other posters that had mostly been peeled away to their backing, whether by hand or the wind, which looked hand drawn. Thor stopped, spying one still in tact not far off. It appeared to be something mentioning a "true god" who was "coming." As they progressed along the freeway, they felt heavier and heavier watching people go about their daily tasks: some sat sharing a cigarette or a can of beer on a front step; some trimmed overgrowth off buildings; a handful of kids kicked a soccer ball about in one of the streets; others just idly strolled by. The neighbourhood wasn't busy, but it was definitely a neighbourhood – a collective.

They came around an arch in the freeway that overlooked a parking lot that was like a Tetris piece between two buildings. Excited chatter and shouts shot like flames up to their ears. They stopped and peaked over the edge to a crowd that had gathered surrounding a handful of soldiers. Some at the front of the herd broke into hysterical screams and collapsed, having to be held by the presumed loved ones around them as they wailed. Steve and Thor looked to each other, puzzeled. Two soldiers knelt and tried to comfort a woman, but two other people swatted them back, screaming about Brigantine. It was at that point Thor's face became stone and he pushed on. Steve begrudgingly followed suit, taking time to get his eyes and mind off the grieving.

It was soon after the freeway descended into Newport onto Boyle Plaza. Steve held up a hand as they neared ground level on the slope down, pointing on ahead towards the toll booth at the mouth of the Holland Tunnel. Gennisian positions choked up the road, further clotted with old cars that looked like at one point had been stuck in traffic. The Gennisians had evidently moved them about to form strategic cover positions, as well potentially to stop vehicles from charging through. They milled about, chatting to each other in passing – some of it inside jokes, some of it further orders. Sandbags and trucks had been set up closer to the tunnel securing machinegun nests. Lining Boyle was a number of strip malls and the husks of fastfood restaurants. More oxidized car shells filled the parking lots, mixed in with forgotten military trucks. Tents lined the streets and rotted banners that had hung across the road flapped from their mounts, torn in half.

"Alright, listen," Thor whispered, turning to Steve. "I'll take point and take out their heavy stuff. Use me for cover to mop up the small arms."

"Alright," Steve said. "But remember, it's a marathon, not–"

"Not a sprint, yeah, yeah, I got it, let's just do this already."

"Alright, go!"

Thor charged down street, the shield braced against him, Stormbreaker extended like the bow of a ship. He broke through the vehicles and the first enemy line, bodies and cars flying off the road, Thor like a jet over water. He landed just before Erie Street, the enemy guns now fully bearing down upon him. He whirled in a circle, ducked behind the shield, deflecting incoming fire, some ricocheting rounds piercing nearby infantry. Steve pulled up behind a car half a block back, his steps light as his wounds were still tender. He let off quick, punchy bursts cleaning up Thor's rear, left and right flank. The troops fell back into a gas stations on respective sides of the street as the machinegun positions engaged. Steve darted into a treeline on the south side of the street as the road exploded in geysers of dust and rock under the heavy rounds. Thor flung Stormbreaker down the road. Like a pinball, it bounded off old cars and enemy trucks. The impacts on the oxidized, soften frames splattered fuel and oil out of the battered engines. The sparks from the friction dove in the bleeding fluid, releasing creeks of fire that, upon reaching the hearts of the metal carcasses, erupted in masts of flames. The smoke from the fires formed clouds like fog across the street. The heat distorted the air into a gelatinous haze.

"Hold fire!" a soldier ordered.

"Thor!" Steve cried.

Thor turned to the peppering of gunfire Steve was pinned down in the Lukoil parking lot on the northeast corner at Erie Street. Gennisian forces were collecting around the Shell on the southeast corner, hunkering behind old car frames and behind the pillars of the pump canape. With one hand, Thor recalled Stormbreaker and with the other he flung the shield like frisbee. It clocked one soldier in the head as they poked out from behind a pillar, the force snapping their neck. The momentum carried it back across the street into the sternum of another troop, folding them like cardboard. It rebounded off a car frame and smashed the skull of a third troop before getting lodged in the wall of the store of the Lukoil.

Steve popped out into the road. He tossed his hands in the air as to where the shield had gone.

"I forgot you had the thing the catch it!" Thor called, patting his wrist.

"Just find it! I'll cover you!"

The smoke from the burning trucks remained thick. Steve pressed past Erie Avenue, clearing two troops out of another south side gas station. He took over down next to a second store and snapped the rifle to full auto. He laid down a spray to suppress the Gennisian forces back into cover.

Thor bounded into the parking lot across the road and ripped the shield from the wall. With a twirl to keep momentum, he leaped to the roof then streaked towards the next intersection where troops were collecting. He called the lightning down with Stormbreaker and flung the shield into the enemy position. It deflated and crippled a small handful of troops, distracting the rest. Steve pulled back behind the wall as Thor came down, a great flash of lightning igniting the road and all hostiles around. Consumed in their own columns of flame, the troops shrieked, stumbling around as the fires wore them away. The shield bounced back around. Thor dove forwards, tucked into a roll, then sprung up, snatching the shield out of the air. He came to halt with brilliant posture, the shield over his torso and Stormbreaker armed above his head, staring down the enemy troops. Steve jogged up next to him and gave him a look.

"What, are you waiting for a photo?" Steve said.

Thor relaxed his pose with a small whine. "Wha–c'mon, we used to do these all the time!"

Steve was about to rebut, but he noticed the air was clearing and the heat of the blazes had disappeared. They looked down the street to the now visible defensive positions.

"I have a visual!" a gunner called.

Steve was about to bark an order when he heard more voices, as well as engines coming up from the south. He turned and looked down the road to an advancing platoon. A half dozen trucks all with buckets of personnel were quick approaching.

"Oh for fuck's sake," Thor grumbled.

Thor braced Stormbreaker ahead of him and threm himself toward the advancing trucks.

"Thor!" Steve screamed.

The machineguns boomed and popped from the tunnel's mouth. Steve sprinted north and dove behind a parking structure as the road burst from the impact of the large rounds. He hit the ground and slit to a halt. He was paralyzed for a moment from the white hot pain of previous wounds. He writhed for a bit, clenching his eyes shut and his teeth together as he tried to ride it out.

Thor skipped between the trucks: his shield arm was always wherever Stormbreaker wasn't and vice versa. The enemy guns couldn't tag him as he brought lightning and thunder down upon their trucks, turning them into mushrooms of flame and smoke eviscerating the occupants. He then reversed course and leaped northeast over a Burger King. He brought his axe down upon the machinegun positions, the shockwave ripping through the trucks, sandbags and troops. They fell at the ends of streams of blood. The windows of the trucks shattered and their tires burst in smoke, dust and bits of rubber.

He raced back east to the intersection and found Steve near the corner of the parking building. He was in the process of picking himself up as Thor swooped into a kneel next to him.

"Hey, you okay?" Thor said, helping Steve to his feet.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good," Steve insisted, rolling his neck.

"Okay, let's move."

Steve lead the way into the tunnel, guiding their way with the flashlight mounted on his rifle. The tunnel was dank and cavernous. The eastbound side was near vacant of vehicles, the only ones being those of the police and military. The westbound side resembled a parking lot. No matter where they were in the tunnel, there was always the sound drops of water plunking to the ground. It always sounded distant, like it wasn't an echo but just nature's ambiance. There were cracks that had spread in the walls, but were for the most part dry. The river would soon reclaim the land the tunnel currently occupied, but it might not be for another 30 years still.

"Hey, Thor?" Steve said softly, all too cognizant of how easily sound bounced about.

"Yeah," Thor said.

"Do, uh," Steve paused, smirking to himself as he recalled the memory, "do you remember that drink you shared with me back around the Ultron thing? During that party Stark threw?"

Thor, too, suddenly found himself in a smile. "I do."

"Well, I just wanted to say I don't think I ever properly thanked you."

Thor stopped and turned to Steve. "Where is this coming from, Rogers?"

Steve stopped and shrugged. "It just came to me." Steve's smirk gained light, his gaze settling deeper into Thor. "Why me though?"

"Because you're–"

"Because I'm worthy, yeah, sure, but why?"

"Well, because you're a warrior!" Thor said with a note of cheer. The words echoed through him, the reverberations like bullets shattering lightbulbs.

"But you said it's not for mortal men, and I am apparently very mortal."

Thor twisted his mouth to one side as he thought. As the words came to him, they were heavy. They were sour. They almost dragged his organs up with them. Everything in him felt fragile. "You've done more than any mortal man has."

"Well, what about Tony? Or Nat, or Sam, or Banner, or–?"

Thor turned in a huff and resumed walking. "I–I don't know, Rogers, you were just standing right there! Alright?"

Steve held up his hand.

Thor turned, no longer hearing Steve or his footsteps. "What?"

Steve tapped his ear and pointed up ahead. Thor's ears tucked back, realizing what was happening. They tucked themselves down next to the center divider. The footsteps approaching echoed through tunnel louder and louder as they neared, sounding too many count. The two men's faces were grim. Just around the corner from them now, Steve lead the two in to the sea of cars, staying low. Through the window frames they could see a small army advancing on them, darting around the vehicles, rushing to reinforce their front line.

Steve's eyes met one of the soldiers and he immediately dropped.

"Shit," he hissed.

The footsteps stopped and they heard the sound of dozens of rifles cocking.

"Steve Rogers! Thor Odinson!" a soldier barked. "Stay where you are! Hands in the air!"

Steve looked to Thor, deflated. The two nodded and they slowly rose to their feet, their hands above their heads, weapons slung over their backs. They noticed one or two of the troops flinch upon seeing them.

"You guys have to turn back!" the soldier said. "This tunnel isn't stable!"

"I don't think so," Thor said with a small laugh. "We intend to move forward. So stand aside or die!"

"We'll all die if you engage! This tunnel is not stable!" the soldier forcefully repeated. "Please, just make your way back to Newport and we'll–"

"Sorry, all, we've come too far," Thor said. He grabbed Steve's arm. "Rogers, you might want to hold your breath."

"What?"

Before any reaction could be had, Thor swung Stormbreaker off his back. He threw it high above his head and the axe soared, Thor clinging to it and Steve. It punctured the tunnel ceiling like Styrofoam and they blasted up through the river. In behind them came the wall of water.

"Retreat!" the soldier screamed, barely audible over the roar of the river having its day.

The tide rushed throughout the tunnel, quickly sweeping in around the ankles of the soldiers as they sprinted back to New York. As the water bore down upon the tunnel, its walls wailed and creaked. The pressure was unrelenting and soon the concrete began to give, first in small cracks like twigs, but then quickly into large branches, severing off large chunks of concrete. They fell from the ceilings and flattened the cars as leaks sprung in their place. The din in the tunnel was deafening, disorienting the soldiers as they bumped into the mess of cars they tried to dodge around. Columns and columns of water poured in until a tidal wave swallowed up the road, bringing the tunnel down as though it were dominoes.

Thor dragged himself and Steve up to the parking lot of Pier 40. As they made land, and Thor helped Steve up, he watched the whitecaps on the river swell and toss themselves about. The tunnel's collapse created strong undertows that manifested as flat spots among the choppy waves clapping into each other. As Thor got his arms around Steve to get him to his feet, he could feel the violent shivers. Steve's face was growing pale, including his lips. Thor hadn't taken into consideration how cold the Hudson would be in mid-autumn, nor the almost perennial, wispy breezes. He hauled Steve across a soccer field, that had quickly become nothing but an unkempt lawn, to an overpass next to West Street. Thor spotted a trailer behind a fence segment, on a service road out to the street. He lugged Steve inside and shut the door. He lay him on a desk and slid his bag onto the ground. As he rummaged through for a blanket, he glanced up at Steve still quaking from the cold.

"You need to stay still, Steve," Thor said, concentrating on his search. "Otherwise you're gonna fall."

"I–I–I'm tr–trying."

Thor whisked the blanket out and tucked it over and around Steve. He got his jacket off and set it under his head. He then rushed about the trailer, trying to find anything else of use he could layer on Steve.

"I–if they di–didn't know we're h–here alrea–dy, the–they d–do now," Steve said.

"We'll lay low here for a bit, until you warm up," Thor said with bravado. "Hopefully, that'll also take some of the heat off." He rifled through some cupboards.

By the time the sun was setting, Thor had managed to scrounge together an old windbreaker and a sweater. He got Steve out of his wet clothes and had him put the dry ones on. Steve was now comfortable sitting up, though still with the blanket around him. His breathing had steadied and the shivers were subsiding. Thor was still concerned he looked a bit pale.

"Ready to go? It's still a bit of a ways," Thor said.

"Yeah, no, I'm good," Steve said, rubbing his eyes. "We just gotta get to 42nd."

Both men jumped in their skin at a gentle knock on the door. They said nothing, they just watched. They barely dared to breath. They began to relax a bit once silence set back in. Thor leaned on the desk, but shot back up upon more knocking.

"Steve, it's me," the voice on the other side said gravely, the same one on the radio.

Thor looked to Steve who had tucked his chin into the blanket. His eyes darted around across the floor before he lifted his head to the door.

"Steve, c'mon, man," the voice said. "I'm not gonna hurt you. I just wanna talk."

"Fuck you, Barnes, you traitor!" Thor hollered, his chest puffed up.

"Hey, Thor," Bucky said. "C'mon, Steve."

"You alone?" Steve said.

"Yeah, it's just me."

Steve shed the blanket and limped to the door. He ignored the disdainful look Thor had locked on him. Steve paused with his hand on the handle. He looked back to Thor. His arms were folded in protest, but he rose to his feet. Steve nodded and rolled his gaze back to the door.

Steve opened the door a fraction to the shaggy man standing on the steps, his hands claspsed in front of him. Bucky's hair was still long, but had thinned and some and was considerably ore grey. His face resembled leather, especially around his eyes – dark and heavy, forehead and the frown lines around his mouth. They had formed in such a way, in combination with a sporadic scar tissue, that his face seemed to be in perpetual scowl. Steve's eyes flashed to Bucky's left arm. The Wakandan prosthetic was gone and replaced with something closer to a hospital prosthetic. On his waist was a Colt M9.

Steve felt breathless. His mouth and brow trembled as he tried to find words. He pressed a hand to his mouth. He took a breath and set his hands at his waist. Bucky sniffed back oncoming tears and brandished his chin, but he let a disarming smirk glow nonetheless.

"Buck," Steve said, leaning on the door frame, shaking his head.

"Can I come in?" Bucky said.

Steve's shoulders heaved and he stepped aside. Bucky treaded in under Thor's glare. He stood the opposite side of the door from Thor, Steve at the top of the stairs between them.

"How did you find us?" Thor demanded.

Bucky chuckled through his nose. "We're ex-military, Thor. We've got drones." Bucky's head twitched to one side as he folded his arms. "Plus, it's hard to miss the Holland Tunnel collapsing." His smirk brightened a bit.

Thor rolled his eyes and looked away. Steve nodded in small motions, his gaze distant.

"It is good to see you guys," Bucky said.

"Why?" Steve said.

Bucky's answer was stifled as he drank in the expression on Steve's face: he was standing on broken glass. Bucky looked to Thor who still refused to look at him.

Any remnants of a smile or excitement ran away from Bucky's face; the scowl resumed its home. His gaze gained urgency. "'Cause we're all that's left." He looked between them both. "And we have a chance to stop all this. Like, this really needs to stop – the fighting, the posturing. It's what got us Thanos in the first place. But where we are now can be our wakeup call."

"Buck, you know that's not true," Steve said.

"Steve, man, stop," Bucky said, his face opening up into a derisive frown. " Don't patronize me, okay? I'm all here this time." He tapped his temple. "Look, way I see it, you guys have two options" you can stop here, repent and join us, or..." Bucky trailed off and refolded his arms, as if to hug himself. His face was painfully grave.

The words smacked Thor's brain like a sledgehammer through brick. He took a heavy step on the assault towards Bucky. "You said–!"

Bucky sighed. "Yeah, I'm alone here. But we had to contain our side of the river. We saw you coming since Newport, guys, c'mon." He pinched the bridge of his nose, collecting himself from what he had said and what was still to be said. "Look, Thor, I–we know we can't kill you." He settled his eyes on Steve. "But Steve, though, we can."

Steve's head swiveled to Sargent Barnes. The look on his face wasn't the sinister gaze he was expecting, but rather one of soggy frustration.

"We're too old for all this, man," Bucky said, the frailty in his voice coming through despite a chuckle escaping. He looked to Thor. "And, Thor, I know, like me, you don't want to lose Steve." His eyes danced between them, his face softening to a plea. "We've got supplies. We've got meds." He settled back on Steve. "Which you're not looking so hot right now. We can get you help."

"Buck, think for a sec," Steve said impatiently. "This isn't right."

"What isn't right?" Bucky said incredulously.

"You with the Gennisians! They think we're the bad guys! They think Thanos is the messiah!"

"We can discuss philosophy later–"

"No, no–no, no."

Bucky huffed and his eyes criss-crossed the floor. "Well, maybe we never were the good guys, Steve." He confidently dug his gaze into his friend. "If we were, maybe we wouldn't have needed the Sokovia Accords."

Steve shook his head vigorously and dismissively. "You really think the UN would stop Thanos?"

"No, but what if we focused on actual shit like HYDRA, not bothering with this Avengers shit."

Steve's cheeks and ears were turning read, the veins in his head popping against the skin. "Bucky, listen–" Steve stumbled momentarily, grabbing the railing on the stairs for support. "Shi–I need to sit for a moment."

Thor snapped to and took hold of Steve, helping him down the trailer to a chair next to a desk. He plopped all his weight down and took a moment to just breath.

Bucky's face read alarm. Thor remembered there was someone else in the room once Steve was settled.

"It's his heart," Thor said regrettably.

"I'll be fine," Steve said indignantly. "I just need some water."

"Steve," Bucky said, coming over and crouching next to the desk, "what you need is a doctor. You need medication."

"No, I need to get to Stark Tower," Steve stated.

Bucky's head hung off his neck as he stood up.

"Sir," a voice crackled in on Bucky's radio, "requesting sitrep–"

He snatched the radio up to his mouth. "Yeah, just hang on." He switched it off and clumsily replaced it in its holster.

"There are innocent people in Stark Tower, Barnes," Thor said with slow emphasis.

Bucky's chest rocked and he shook his head. "They're not innocent."

"Says who?" Steve shot back.

"The troops I've lost to them taking that place." He pivoted to Thor. "I'm guessing you took a radio from Brigantine, right? That's how you knew to come here?"

Thor teetered his head impishly. "Well, that and the beacon they've got atop the tower."

"Whatever, guys, look, Gennisism isn't evil. We're not the bad guys, it's just the way things are now and those people in the tower refuse to get on board."

"Remember when Tony wanted us to just get on board?" Steve said, his head tipped towards Bucky and his eyebrows raised expectantly.

Bucky's shoulders fell. "Steve, we don't want to fight you."

Steve's chest rose and fell and he heaved himself to his feet. He cocked his head, brandishing chin. "Well, hat's too bad."

"Steve–"

Steve jabbed a fast right book into Bucky's face. He stumbled into the wall, clattering to the floor stunned. Steve whirled to Thor.

"Get to Stark Tower," he ordered.

Thor nodded then, with Stormbreaker raised, he blasted out through the ceiling. Bucky got to his feet and charged at Steve, tackling him to the floor.

The defensive position stretched back to Hudson Street. Barnes had arranged for smatterings of trucks and markspeople to hold the area from Barrow right down to West Houston. But the sickly feeling of not being prepared clotted in their stomachs as Thor exploded up through the parking lot, high in the air. The truck gunners pounded the sky with rounds as Thor arched. He and Stormbreaker struck the Earth, crashing to a building a block east of the pier. The explosion turned the building to shrapnel, rock and brick shards piercing anything and everything 360 degrees around. The shockwave and debris bombarded soldiers like a tidal wave and rolled a few trucks. The adjacent buildings were blown inward and collapsed, turning the streets to canals of dust.

The shockwave of Thor's strike caused the trailer to tremble as Bucky pinned Steve to the floor.

"Steve, enough!" Bucky shouted. "We don't have to fight anymore!"

Saliva bubbled through Steve's teeth as all he could do was growl back, fighting to free himself from the entanglement. He shot his forehead into Bucky's nose. The thud echoed through Steve's skull and sent Bucky reeling backwards onto his feet. Steve picked himself up and grabbed Bucky while he was still dazed. He swung low, bringing his weight to bare behind his punches right into Bucky's gut, then finished the job with a left hook across the face. The hit sent Bucky stumbling a few steps. He caught himself on the wall, panting and hunched.

"Steve, stop, please," Bucky said, "I'm trying to help you."

"No, no," Steve said, his words like wasps, "they've gotten in your head. And..." he shook his head, stung himself, "I just don't know what else to do."

"You could have come with me," Bucky said, the toll talking took becoming more apparent. His voice cracked as he strained against his emotions. "You didn't have to die here."

"I'm gonna die anyways," Steve said, his voice cracking. "I just want it to mean something."

"Like what, Steve!? Fine, kill me, but then what? Whatever troops Thor doesn't kill will come for you! And those people in Stark Tower are gonna be killed or captured! Sooner or later."

Steve screamed and threw another wild fist at Bucky. Bucky caught his arm and, using Steve's momentum against him, threw him down. Steve went headlong into the desk and tumbled to his side. His eyes winced shut as he braced for the pain.

The skies over New York had turned black like cooled lava. Instead of the oranges of molten rock seeping through, it was the electric bolts of white and pale blue. The bolts wove like thread and struck the city like needles, following Thor's charge through Greenwich Village toward Midtown. He stormed Park Avenue and the storm followed. Thunder boomed and exploded across the sky as Thor razed the Gennisian resistance. The lightning reduced trucks to flames and burned personnel alive. The axe left scores more in pieces, some still floundering as blood flooded from wounds were limps once were, or tried to keep their entrails inside them. Unable to so much as slow Thor's advance, the Gennisians retreated up Park Avenue to a roadblock at 42nd Street, a half block south of Stark Tower.

Just blocks away, Thor did pause. He was first captured by the view of Stark Tower, a sight he had not seen in years, even before Thanos' arrival. He remembered the landmark it had been in the city and how the humans had admired it. It used to glisten in the sun in the day, and be emphatically aglow at night. But now, as Thor gazed up on it, it was nothing. It was a collection of steel beams and concrete, patched up here and there with sheets of wood or metal.

The storm was suddenly quiet as Thor stood in the middle of the street. The Gennisians stood just ahead, their eyes wild with rage and adrenaline, their faces twinkling with sweat, but also shadowed with dirt. They constantly adjusted their grip on their weapons, sometimes wiping away a bead of sweat from their brow or eye. Thor looked to the roadblock as he took advantage of the break in the fight to catch his breath. A chopper orbited around in front of him overhead. He stared directly at the gunner as it swung around. His face darkened and his eyes settled back to the road, aglow. Bolts arced across his body as the winds cried once more and the thunder bellowed.

"C'mon, man," Bucky said, hobbling over.

Blood dripped from Steve's nose as he rolled on to all fours. He froze hearing the click of Bucky drawing his gun.

Steve's head hung to the floor with an amused breath. "You gonna kill me now?"

Despite his best efforts, Bucky's firing hand quivered. His face reddened as he tried to ignore the clouding in his eyes. "You're not leaving me much choice."

"Then do it."

Bucky's eyes were wide as he stared down the sight to his friend. His back rose and fell with each breath. His hair was a mess, seeming limper than before. His clothes were filthy, the skin on his hands cracked. Bucky's eyes searched for Steve encased somewhere in the man alone before him.

Steve whirled around to face Barnes, his head an inch from the barrel.

"Do it!" Steve screamed. "C'mon! Do it!"

"Stop, Steve! Just stop!"

Steve smacked the gun away as he scrambled to his feet. As he stood, he watched as Bucky's arm swung back around the gun lined up with his chest. His finger settled on the trigger and squeezed. The world was drowned out against the rushing of blood in Steve's ear.

And then a click.

The world popped back into his ears as Steve's heart rumbled in his chest like an old motor.

Bucky just stared at him. His body felt caught in a cactus as the adrenaline rush rose and fell within him. He could no longer suppress the trembling and he lowered the gun. He let it fall to the floor like a used up toy, like how he saw himself in Steve's gaze. Both men searched desperately in each other for the one they swore was in there, but all either saw before them was a lost man standing on glass.

Thor launched himself up the street at the roadblock. The 50 caliber cannons opened fire, the streets flooded with fire. The storm gained steam as did Thor, and within moments heavy sheets of rain buffeted the city. It was like trying to see through old, plastic film.

"Hold fire!" a command echoed from somewhere on 42nd.

The sky flashed and thunder rattled, and for the split second everything was clear. Every set of eyes and every gun was trained on Park Avenue. The rain was almost deafening in its intensity. The sky flashed and thunder rattled. Someone screamed. It was faint, most weren't sure if they'd even really heard it. A few looked around, but couldn't see through the rain. To anyone in a truck, anything going on outside was completely drowned out by the pelting of the metal by the storm.

"Anyone have a visual!"

"Negative!" The response echoed through each soldier right across the front.

The sky flashed and the thunder rattled. Small pops of gunfire came from somewhere on the line. More heads turned trying to pinpoint it. The sky flashed and thunder rattled and the gunfire ceased.

"Wall, this is Vulture," a voice crackled over a radio, "we're turning in. Can't see shit out here."

"Roger that," one of the troops replied. She looked to the sky, feeling the rippling of the air under the rotors, but couldn't see through the sheets of rain.

The sky was blinding and the thunder roared as a truck burst in a column of flames. The surrounding troops were tossed in all directions. Those that rushed to respond literally felt the winds ripped out their backs as Stormbreaker whisked through their bodies. The rain carried the bolts off the axe and zapped any soldiers missed. From a faint sillouhette, Thor emerged from the rain, catching Stormbreaker as it made its return. Just as quickly, the rain veiled him again as he took his final steps towards Stark Tower, troops rushing past behind him to respond to the carnage.

"All that's left, huh," Steve said, glancing at Barnes' prosthetic. "Where's the arm?"

"Had to go."

Steve shifted. "Why?"

"'Cause, Steve, that wasn't a solution. That was a battle strategy. It was meant for fighting, but that's not what I do anymore. I'm done. I'm tired of it. I need to be in a place where I don't need that arm."

"All that's left," Steve dismissively muttered to himself. "So now he commands an army."

"Look, just because we've gotten older doesn't mean none of what we did happened," Bucky said.

"Yeah, that's what I've been trying to say."

"No, that's not what I mean. I mean it doesn't change the fact a lot of people died because of us. A lot of bad shit was done trying to make more of us. You and me, we're proof of that."

Steve set his neck in a half shake of his head, his lips pressed together. His face deflated as a he let a breath escape. "No, we're not. We've always tried to do right by–"

Bucky shook his head vigorously. "No, really, you gotta stop and think about the bigger picture here. Yeah, we tried to do right, but a lot of it was fixing problems we caused. And the only reason you're you is because of that project. What kind of precedent did that set? What about HYDRA and what they did to me? The whole Winter Soldier project?" His stance and face became more earnest, like the soldier Steve had always known. "I just don't want things to go back to how they were. This is how I can make a real difference."

The smaller Barnes seemed, the angrier Steve felt. He was boiling pot of anger, helplessness and exhaustion. He blinked a tear off his eyelashes and grasped the firearm on his waist. He raised it on Barnes who just seemed even smaller now. Bucky's face twitched as he swallowed the brewing tide of emotion, like the tsunami after the quake.

Thor bumbled through the Stark Tower foyer, void of colour in the storm. The wind blew the rain inside, drenching the cracked and scraped marble floors and the sporadic furniture. He made his way to the stairs and began his climb. He felt no pace beyond a meander was necessary.

He stopped on the floor he remembered the lounge was on. He walked down the hall and out to the catwalk overlooking the set-down room. Many of the windows were missing and the liquor shelves, sitting slanted on the wall, had rusted. So to had the railings of the cat walk and the meso floors. His head whirled on a pivot at the bareness of the lounge: all the furniture was gone, the bar was gone, the shelves bare. His confused twirl came to a halt at a group of people huddled down on the floor under blankets and other rags. Grubby faces, almost black with dirt peaked out from various covers and all appeared malnourished. Their looks were of dumb shock and awe, all staring at Thor.

"Are you all the ones with the beacon?" Thor said. The echo in the room surprised him. It was bigger than he remembered.

"Yes, there are–" one, a man, went to say, his voice tiny and raspy.

"Uh, what? Sorry, I can't hear you," Thor called over the vast room, his hand cupped to his ear.

"I said there–"

"No, still can't–let me just come down there."

He jogged down the stairs and across the floor to the couches. Before Thor stopped, the man pointed up, sighing exasperatedly through his nose.

"Ah, thank you," Thor said, coming to a graceful stop. "Uh, but who is in charge here?"

The people looked about from one to another.

"Is there not someone, I don't know, co-ordinating all this? Making sure you don't kill each other for–for food?" Thor said, doing his best to remain polite.

The looks he got in response were still just as vacant.

"Right." Thor nodded in thanks and continued upstairs.

Bucky collected himself and wiped his arm across his face. "Steve, use your head. You don't think we know about Manahawkin? If you don't stand down–if you kill me, if you don't reign in Thor, we'll have to respond, and those people will die."

Steve replied snapping back the gun's hammer.

Bucky held out his hands defensively, desperately searching Steve's face. "Trust me, you and Thor are not the good guys here. You're making this all worse. Innocent people live here and they're scared."

Steve's face twitched, afflicted with the memory of Journal Square. He fought to keep his war face on. He bore his teeth, his face wrapped tight around the anger like an undersized shirt. But the more he looked at Buck, the more he couldn't ignore his disarming demeanor, the more he felt the ground beneath his feet was like a liquid. He felt like he had been stolen away on a river's current unbeknownst to him and dumped somewhere just barely recognizable. He dropped the gun to his side and slumped against the wall.

"I don't know what to do, Buck," Steve confessed, but the look on this face as though he was addressing anyone and no one.

"It's 'cause this isn't war anymore, not like the ones we used to fight," Bucky said, a tepid, small smile rising on his face, "and that's okay."

Steve's head and eyes felt heavy. Where ever he was felt like it mattered less and less; he was there with no way back. The call to rest was stronger and more seductive. His body was so heavy and he thirsted for just a moment to shut his eyes.

Thor emerged on the top floor of the tower. He entered from the hall into a control room and stopped. The walls of controls and monitors were still alight. The boards were still alive with blinks and flashes, some screens even still tracked air traffic. There were voices that shimmered through on radios. Sitting at the radios and controls were people, grubby and malnourished like those downstairs, but dogged in their monitoring. They all stared back at Thor, their jaws agape, a scruffy man at a control panel almost in tears. Thor looked beyond the control room through the glass doors and floor length windows to the cargo bay. There were armed men and women standing at the glass with their backs to them, and more towards the mouth of bay waiting out the rain.

"Uh, who here is operating the beacon?" Thor said, clumsily getting his focus back in the room.

The man at control panel on one of the walls rose from his seat. He cleared his throat and quickly wiped the tears out of his eyes on his pants. "We–we all sort of do, sir."

Thor cocked his head. The man wore a faded, checkered, button-down shirt and a grimy trucker cap that looked to have had a logo on the front at one point. His face nestled in the bush of a curly, thick, greying beard. His face made old by exposure was earnest and curious, making it impossible to tell if he was young, but tired, or old.

The man tilted his head, seeing Thor zoning out. "Is that not how we address you?"

"Oh, well, uh, I–I don't, uh, I don't really..."

"We've never addressed a god – our god before. I just kinda figured 'sir' is a safe bet," the man said. "If you'd rather something else, we could–"

"Your god...?" Thor said.

"Yeah, that's kinda what the beacon's for."

The man smiled graciously at Thor's deepening puzzled look. "We figured you were still out there somewhere. So we decided we'd send out the distress signal and sooner or later you'd come for us."

"New York is our land!" another, younger man cheered.

A chorus of affirmation rippled through the room.

"My name's Danny, by the way," the man said, outstretching his hand.

Thor's face softened and he took Danny's hand with a firm warmth. "Pleasure."

Thor looked over each face in the room, all seeming brighter and at least nourished with hope. They all looked at him expectantly, with energized smiles. Thor's face clouded over once again with concern. He couldn't stop thinking about Steve, and how he had no idea what had become of him. Part of him was glad Steve wasn't there, but part of him was devastated he might never know the fruits of their struggle.

Thor collected himself and became set in his commanding stance. "So, uh, Danny, how many can fight?"

"Not enough," Danny said.

"I've managed to weaken their forces, it'll take them some time to regroup," Thor said.

"Well, then, they're probably gonna pull whatever's left back to protect the UN building," Danny said.

"Why the UN?"

"That's their center of operations."

Thor grimaced and nodded. "Have you a way out?"

Danny nodded confidently. "Lincoln Tunnel to Union City."

"Alright, wait for my signal," Thor said. "Be ready to move."

"Uh, is this one of those we'll know it when we see it type o' deals?" Danny said.

"Steve? Hey!" Bucky called, rushing to Steve.

Steve's eyes were falling shut and his breathing was laboured and gravelly. Bucky's hand was an inch from Steve's arm when a gun flashed up in his face. Bucky froze, his eyes wide.

"Steve," Bucky said, his tone reddening like a hot coal.

"The war never stopped, Buck," Steve said, words faint over his breath. "I'm sorry."

He trained the gun on Barnes, disengaged the safety and squeezed the trigger. The gun clicked. Steve squeezed the trigger again, but it was locked.

"Fuck," Steve grunted, waving the gun out of his hand. He rested his head against the wall as he slumped to the floor.

Bucky looked down at Steve in horror. Steve slowly turned his head to look at Barnes. He expected him to be shaken, but it was still hard to see the look on his face.

"I had to," Steve said. "You're one of them." He paused a moment to concentrate on his breathing. "We can't keep doing this anymore."

"I know! I'm trying to stop–!"

"No," Steve said, redlining every muscle in his body as he hoisted himself back to his feet, "no, you're part of the problem."

"Hey, Steve, enough, alright?" Bucky said, rushing over, getting his arms around him. "Sit down, you need to rest."

"Get off me," Steve said, trying to shake off Bucky's hold.

"Steve, relax," Bucky said sharply, trying to set Steve back down.

"Buck, I swear to Christ!" Steve barked, bracing his arms against Bucky's grasp to break the hold.

The two men trembled under their own strength as they fought each other in a battle of endurance.

From Second Avenue all the way east to the United Nations Plaza, the Gennisians had locked down Forty Second. Troops that weren't in trucks huddled up next to buildings as out of the torrential storm as they could possibly get. They were soaked through to the bone, gritting their teeth against the icy, howling winds.

A soldier up towards the Second Street front got out their radio. "Command, this is wall! Stark Tower's too hot and there's a helluva storm rolling through!"

"We've abandoned position and fallen back to Forty Second and Second!" the soldier continued, their call coming through on Bucky's radio. "Requesting all available units to the UN!"

Bucky's resistance broke as his face dropped at the situation report. Steve broke Bucky's hold slams a right hook into the side of Bucky's head, sending him sprawling back across the trailer. He landed hard on his side, feeling his ribs rattle. He rapidly tried to catch his breath as he rolled onto his back, Steve looming over him.

The troops ducked behind each other, flinching at each lightning strike that lit up the rain just a few blocks away. They could see the silhouette of Stark Tower glimmer through the rain as the bolts snapped the air and thunder rolled towards them.

The soldier replaced their radio back in its holster. He wiggled his toes as he reassumed his firing stance. They were quite cold. He expected his boots to have better waterproofing against a rainstorm, but he couldn't help but feel his socks were soggy. He looked down and realized his boots were slowly becoming submerged. He looked around the street and noted that the entire regiment was wading in just about an inch of water. Out of his peripheral, he noticed a flash of movement. He turned back to see a soldier fleeing back towards the UN, swallowed into the rain. Another one followed soon after, then two more, then another one.

The soldier's ears blew out and their feet were no longer on the earth. The air around them burned with reds and oranges as they tumbled end over end through the air. They landed in the water, the wind fully expelled from their body and paralyzed in the deepening, cold tide inching up their face. Another truck bore a strike and erupted. The shockwave blew the front of a building in and the upper wall toppled forward. Bricks and stone crashed to the street, crushing those scrambling to retreat, and those caught lying in the street. Thor burst from the shroud of rain, Stormbreaker aglow like a small star as bolts of lightning webbed from it. He dashed along Forty Second, swiftly trimming down the Gennisian regiment as they fled. He flung Stormbreaker through the air like a boomerang, the arcs of electricity like legs propelling it along. It flayed those troops that had run for the cover of buildings, blinded by the storm and cut in two those that kept running. Thor caught the axe and, with a running start, bounded into the air, Stormbreaker primed over his head. Mid-arc, his face dropped as the flashes of lightning illuminated a smoke stream hurling towards him.

The rocket's explosion crashed over the neighbourhood and the fleeing Gennisians halted as the streets glowed orange. They turned to see the remaining smoke cloud of the rocket's impact with its target. The rain all at once let up, gradually dissipating from a torrent, to a smattering, to a fine mist. The cloud deck remained firm and dark as night, but the thunder and lightning had ceased. The soldiers, overcome with relief, nearly collapsed to their knees. They were dumb as they embraced the silence that had fallen over the city. It was only slightly disturbed by the cheer of the rocketeer bouncing off the buildings down the street.

"What are you gonna do, Steve, huh?" Bucky snarled.

"Shut up!" Steve snapped, ramming a kick into Bucky's ribs. He landed another. He landed another. And another. And another. The air was sharp in his throat as he kicked the man on the ground, his chest tightening, his skin burning where wounds hadn't healed.

Bucky caught Steve's ankle and yanked. Steve's feet came out from under him and he crashed to floor. Bucky snatched a switchblade off his waist and flicked it open, digging it into Steve's leg. He planted it with everything he had, getting both his hands around the hilt and putting his weight behind it. Steve screamed in agony as the blade carved through tissue. Almost as if by reflex, Steve swung his free foot around into Bucky's face. Blood spurted from his nose as his head whipped aside from the impact.

Thor coughed and sputtered as he came to. He rested up on the backs of his arms as he adjusted his eyes. He looked down himself and noticed most of his shirt and pants had burned away from the blast.

"Great," he muttered.

He got to his feet with a bit of a sway and held out his hand. Stormbreaker whisked through the air into the building through the hole Thor made when he was thrown from the sky. He walked to edge and noticed he was about eight floors up overlooking Forty Second. The Gennisians had collected their troops on the street below: several trucks were waiting with guns manned and armed; soldiers rushed about, collecting in their platoons. He watched their feet trail in the flood waters as they cheered and celebrated. A smirk crept onto Thor's face and he braced his axe. He leapt out of the building in a high, short arc.

Everyone on the ground fell instantly and completely silent as they heard the snap and pop of Stormbreaker, almost as though the axe was cackling at them. They spotted Thor, tiny in the sky as he soared. His ascent halted, and he fell. He didn't charge to the ground like a meteor as before, he did not angle himself into a dive, he just let himself fall. The soldiers watched in awe as he descended toward them.

A soldier shuffled her feet and felt the water lap against her ankles. She looked down at the water then her head snapped up to Thor, careening from the sky under alight with electricity like Stormbreaker.

"Run!" she screamed as she sprinted for the UN.

Thor landed and the road shattered beneath him, the water rushing in small waves after retreating troops. He brought Stormbreaker down into the water, turning the street into one big light. The canal of water was now a canal of lightning as soldiers were ignited under sparks and flames, frozen stiff in place by the seizure of their muscles. The tide of lightning draped Thor as he marched down 42nd on the UN, past the upright troops, dead on their feet. The trucks exploded with sparks and smoke as drivers fell into the current and the gunners were made one with the truck and the gun. It was as though time had stopped and the fabric was unravelling around him as he made it step by step down the street, past the people turned to columns of flames now crumpling, and the infernos consuming the trucks. His vision suddenly flattened as a small fireball shot from his face off down the street.

"Shit!" Thor gasped as his eye was batted across the street by the electrical charges.

Steve climbed his way up the wall to his feet. He tested his wait on his injured leg that oozed blood. As he found his footing, Bucky swayed to his feet, knife still firmly in hand. The two men stared each other down. Bucky blinked away sweat and pain, keeping his knife at the ready. Steve hobbled in place, trying to keep weight off his wound. Bucky's jaw flexed and he charged. He jabbed the knife at Steve, but he swatted the weapon away with his palm and landed a blow to Bucky's head. Steve stumbled into the wall, screeching as his momentum came down on his injured leg. Bucky rebounded off the wall and drove a flat kick into Steve's core, sending him backwards into the desk. He tumbled backwards and caught himself against the edge, then hoisted himself up onto it as Bucky swooped in with jabs and pokes. Steve managed to weave out of harm's way. A few times he was slow, fatigued, and he felt the sting of Bucky's blade shoot through the skin of his arm and chest. He caught Bucky's knife arm and crunched a fist into the side of his neck. Bucky gasped for air as he stumbled backwards. Steve guided himself along the wall, closing on Barnes.

The cargo bay door flung open and flush faced markswoman poked her head in.

"Hey, guys!" she shouted at the control room.

They all turned their heads indignantly at the sudden disruption.

"Yes!" Danny said, mimicking her.

She gave him a derisive look.

"They're moving," she said.

"Who?"

"Oh, just the neighbours across the street–the Gennisians, who the fuck else!"

Danny got his finger in the air, about to draw a comeback, but he thought better of it and lead the people in the control room out through the cargo bay.

"Storm finally broke," one of the marksmen said from the wall as they reached the mouth of the bay.

They emerged onto the helicopter pad, the city sprawling before them, gashed and wounded under a thin sheet of low lying fog. Forty Second was particularly battered with the glow of flames and clouds of smoke mixing with the moisture in the air. The markswoman pointed at the river of Gennisian troops abandoning the Park Avenue defensive line and streaming east toward the UN.

"That's our queue, guys," Danny said, "let's move!"

Thor caught up with his loose eye in the last block between Second and the UN Plaza. He screwed it back into its socket, his renewed telescopic sight revealing the street sparse with resistance. Thor made quick work of whatever extra defense was starting to trickle in. A violent bang erupted through the air and Thor was swept off his feet. He landed on his back, but just as easily got back to his feet. He dug out the long, pointed round that had gotten lodged in his skin, as though he had been stung by a bee. As he flicked it aside, his eyes caught a glint of sun reflected atop the UN International building. He dashed through the ruins of the Elos Evangelical church and into the cover of the shrubbery of Ralph Bunche Park at the corner. From low behind a tree, peered down the road and caught the twinkle of a sniper's lens in the Robert Moses Playground, diagonal across the intersection. He also spotted sand bags draped in branches, and a similarly shrouded man behind a machinegun. He looked to the UN building across the street and surmised a similar setup atop the roof.

He assumed a crouch, like a loaded spring then leapt high towards the International Center. He landed fist first into the face of the sniper. Like a ragdoll, the man flopped across the roof as Thor got steady on his feet.

The footsteps of the refugees splashed down Park Avenue and along Forty Second westbound. A few took a long, passing look at the bodies and burned out trucks that littered the streets. Some soldiers had been burned beyond recognition. The stench in the street was strong and some couldn't sustain the jog, having to walk while they shielded their faces. Those at the front of the pack did their best to ignore the carnage, for the sake of themselves and everyone else. At 6th Avenue, the eagerness to move was back and the group was back at a light run, desperate to get off Long Island, but also wanting to pace themselves. Every corner they passed, every intersection they crossed they braced to be met with a Gennisian face, even just a civilian who might scream and call for the armed forces. But as they progressed, no one showed. They crossed 7th, then 8th and the pace never let up, it only quickened. Most were running on fear and anticipation.

"We're coming up on ninth!" Danny called to the group. "We hang a left there and then we're just about outta here!"

In the last third of a block between 8th and 9th, the group stomped to a halt. A platoon of Gennisian forces rounded the corner from the north off 9th. The lead soldier, seeing the oncoming rebels, waved their hand for the rest to fan out across the street. The few armed refugees raised their rifles. Those unarmed scattered off the street. Both sides opened fire and the street trembled under the collective weight of the guns. A few refugees were caught and shredded in the flurry. The rounds exploded from their bodies in blood and entrails as they went down. The slaughter of unarmed refugees startled a few of the Gennisian soldiers, leaving them open for the mob of refugees to pounce. They grabbed whoever they could and wailed with fists and feet. Their armed back up kept the other troops from coming to the rescue. Some were shirked off and shot and the other Gennisian troops successfully held the armed resistance back, taking out most. Complacent having gotten the upperhand, the Gennisians were unaware that those soldiers brought down had their weapons stripped. The rebels sprayed the troops with bullets, killing and maiming them before they could respond.

Steve charged at Bucky, screaming away the pain of his bum leg. He raised a right hook, and fired for Bucky's head. Bucky shot his prosthetic up and, though with a bit of give, it broke Steve's momentum as it collided with his forearm. Bucky swoops the knife up from below, but Steve catches his wrist. The men found themselves once again locked together: Steve's arm was trapped against Bucky's. His range of motion was limited as he couldn't afford any slack on his other hand against Bucky's wrist. Bucky's breathing was erratic as his throat still felt tight. His energy was nearly entirely dedicated to keeping Steve's blow at bay, and keeping the knife on target.

Like a Thor dashed off the roof and brought the weight of he and Stormbreaker down upon the sniper and machinegun nest in the playground. The blast threw the troops in opposite directions as sand exploded up in the air.

Thor got primed to make the leap back atop the UN building, but was stalled by a rattling echoing down 42nd, out into the UN Plaza. He abandoned his stance and waited, his ears tracking the sound as it neared. The chopper soon sailed out over the rooftops. It was low and crawled through the sky. The trees flexed under the winds of the massive, twin rotors and the sand was whipped up into little doldrums. Like a shark, it circled over the park. Thor, his eyes locked on the aircraft, primed Stormbreaker as it glowed. The surge in power began to draw the storm's ire again as Thor's body was sparked by the lightning. The chopper swung around in front and Thor's mouth gaped. It seemed larger than the rest, the air vibrating under the thunderous bass of the rotors. Under its long nose was an equally long minigun quietly spinning. Its wing span was nearly as wide as the chopper was long, like a great bird of prey, under each were twin revovler-chambers of missiles. The dual-level cockpit was concealed under a tinted dome. Thor watched, waiting for what was to come next. The chopper hovered in place for a moment. The storm began to subside and Stormbreaker settled watching the sky beast that felt like it was watching them. In another moment, it lifted and took off back the way it came, disappearing behind the carcass of New York City.

Dismissing the chopper from his mind, he marched through the courtyard of the UN building to the front doors. He was unchallenged upon entering, but once inside it was clear Gennisian forces had prepared for his advance. Machinegun fire rocked the halls, but the troops wound up being nothing more than fodder for Stormbreaker. Rounding a corner coming face-to-face with troops, they were met with the crushing force of Thor's fist or the slice of the axe's blade. Seeing his march was unstoppable and the dozen troops that had perished, eventually they turned and ran as soon they saw Thor coming.

The three refugees remaining rounded the corner onto 9th, sprinting for the Lincoln Tunnel on ramp a half-dozen short blocks away. As they breezed down the middle of the street, people poked their heads out of the town homes. They blinked at the sunlight that was growing stronger, their eyes adjusting from hiding. They stared in awe at the flooded streets and the refugees that trodded through them.

"Come with us!" Danny shouted. "You can be free!"

His words were met with looks of disgust. As they went along, the disgust mutated to the hurling of profanities and slurs. The profanities and slurs metastasized into the hurling of whatever object could fit in a hand – a can, rotten food, stones. The refugees ran faster, as fast as their legs could bare as a few civilians left the steps of their homes to give chase. The numerous feet splashing through the waters behind them was all the refugees needed to push through the burning in their legs and lungs.

"West 36th!" Danny called. "West 36th!"

They rounded the corner wide and fast, their immediate next turn the onramp down to the Lincoln Tunnel. Their pursuers halted at the top of the slope, shouting and hollering after them. The refugees kept running, the pain insignificant.

Thor stormed into a number offices and rooms. Despite his thunderous demands, none of the cowering civilians inside would answer who was in charge. Each room that he got stonewalled in, his frustration increased.

After scouring a half dozen rooms, he exploded into a meeting hall. The clatter of the doors echoed abrasively throughout the large open room. The seats and desks were remarkably clean, though a large TV screen front and center of the room had fallen off the wall. Based on its collection of dust and the brittleness of the screen, it seemed to have been long ago. Thor's gaze came to bare upon a group of people – three men and three women – retreating to the center floor, into the middle of crescent arrangement of seats.

"Who's in charge here!" Thor demanded.

They cluttered together in the box the inner floor seats and desks created. Upon a couple of those seats were large brimmed hats and long, ridiculous black coats. Their faces were rabid with fear. From across the room, Thor could hear their anxious pants. He cried out in frustration and sailed down the stairs. He whisked towards them through an aisle between the seats, his hand out to grab one of them. They shrieked at him, part fear, part battle cry and huddled tighter.

Steve could feel his arms wearing. What's more, his bleeding leg was turning to sand. He could feel the blood seep into his shoe, causing the skin to stick the fabric. The pain had spread like a virus and consumed most of his leg. The cuts on his arm and chest were pulling the already tender skin. His mouth was dry. Bucky's resolve seemed strong. His prosthetic arm hadn't budged, nor did the force behind his knife hand waiver.

Desperate, Steve screamed in Bucky's face. For a moment, Bucky's grip loosened as he flinched. Steve wrapped his arm over Bucky's prosthetic, grabbing it up near the shoulder. He braced against his knife hand for leverage and pulled. Steve lost his grip when the prosthetic suddenly lost its weight, feeling like it had evaporated in his grasp as it came apart from Bucky's shoulder. For one moment, he was sick with what he had just done. In the next moment he was in too much pain to breathe. His lungs were spasming. The pain in his gut wasn't guilt, but something real, something hard. He'd lost sight of Bucky's knife. He tilted his head down slowly, every minute not focused on breathing detrimental. He saw Bucky's hand wrapped so tight around the hilt, his knuckles were white. But the blade had disappeared – it had disappeared past the blood seeping into his shirt and inside him.

"Please, please!" one of the men cried at Thor, his fear wet like his eyes and face. "Don't do this! We repented! We serve! We're supposed to live!"

Thor halted. He glared at the group of people before him. He glanced at the clothing draped on the seats and back at the three men and three women.

"You cost us everything," one of the women growled, her anger dry and sharp like a porcupine.

"You were terrorizing innocent people!" Thor boomed.

"We all lost just about everything in the rapture," another man pleaded, his voice trembling. "None of this went how we wanted, but all we're trying to do is make sure those left on the planet deserve to be here. Like those people in Atlantic City."

"We just want this to stop," another woman meekly groaned. "Please. We're not Thanos. But he gave us this new Earth."

Stopped in his tracks, Thor looked over each face. All were varying looks of exhaustion – angry exhaustion, anxious exhaustion, or just exhaustion. Thor's stomach turned over the more he looked at each face. He took a small step, his palm out like he was trying to appease a frightened child. They saw his hand, but didn't reach back. They didn't flinch. They don't care, Thor thought.

Steve collapsed against Bucky, gasping for air. Bucky caught him in his arm and pressed him to him and allowed himself to sob. His eyes were completely submerged in tears as his face reddened like he was standing in a cold wind. Feeling Steve grow heavier, Bucky set him gently down against the wall. Steve sputtered as blood pooled in his mouth and his tired eyes stared into Bucky's

"I'm so sorry," Bucky said, kneeling in front of Steve. His voice was small. "I'm so sorry." He brushed his hand tenderly up over Steve's head, taking in each inch of his face.

Both men's eyes soon came to rest on the knife. Bucky looked to Steve earnestly.

"We could have worked this out," he said.

Steve, his eyelids weighing on him, mildly shook his head. "No, I don't think we could have."

Bucky found himself dumb. Blood dripped off Steve's chin and had soaked his shirt. It had dried on his pant leg. His limbs were limp and his skin pale like the sky before an autumn rain. The search for words had been exhausted. Bucky wiped his face of tears and grabbed his arm off the floor. He fastened it back in place then got the hand on the knife. He cupped the back of Steve's head with his other hand.

He sniffed his nose clear and pursed his lips together, his face a tempest of emotion. He swallowed and exhaled, focused on Steve. "I'm with you to the end of the line, pal."

The corners of Steve's mouth twitched as a small breath passed over his lips; none more was drawn. His head was heavy in Bucky's hands. Bucky tensed and drew the knife from Steve's gut as his body teetered over. Bucky fell back on his behind, his eyes racing over the floor. His mind was empty. His entire body felt hollow. The breaths he sucked in became wetter with saliva and sharper with teeth. He screamed and shot to his feet, scooping his arm up off the floor.

"FUCK!" he shrieked as he whipped it full force into a wall. "FUUUCK!"

He stumbled over to the desk and rested down on his forearm. His breaths were laboured and his back swelled and settled, like the waves on the ocean. His eyes were drawn to the tip of something leaning the opposite side of the desk. He propped himself up on his arm and felt his way along to the other side.


	13. Chapter 13

The clouds over Midtown broke as the sun got ready to set. Forty Second Street, between Park and the UN buzzed with Gennisian troops. They rushed to asses their casualties amidst urgent screams and shouts for medical attention or about another deceased.

A trickling of people spilled into the UN courtyard, dumb at the commotion on Forty Second. A number of buildings had collapsed in the street. Forty Second Street was a canal, just like UN Plaza and the surrounding streets, of cloudy, brown flood water. But Forty Second wasn't brown, it was red. Their eyes followed the red down the road to scores of bodies partly submerged in the water, unrecognizable – some had been charred black, others had been burned right down to the muscle. Fluids leaking from the trucks, some still islands of fire, mixed with the red as soldiers rushed about with buckets of water and stretchers.

The door to the trailer under the Pier 45 pass creaked ajar. Thor poked his head inside. Bucky had crumpled to his knees. He obstructed the body slumped against the wall on the floor. Thor spied the blood smear down the paneling. The room was entirely silent.

Bucky turned his head to his shoulder. Thor pressed past the door up to his chest. Bucky's shoulders heaved and he set a foot under himself, hoisting himself up to his feet. Thor could now fully see the bloody heap that was Steve Rogers just beyond Barnes. He looked to see Bucky's eyes on him; they were red and wet. His hair was astray in parts. There was a hunch in his posture. The look on Bucky's face was one Thor had never seen before. It was not the quiet severity of the man of legend. It was the vulnerability of a boy; someone unequivocally mortal, human, wayward.

"Thor," Barnes said.

Thor was suddenly aware of the shiver that had come over him. It was as though he was trapped in a tunnel and all he could see was Bucky.

"I'm sorry," Bucky whimpered.

Thor's teeth had clenched so tight behind his lips they might have shattered. A soreness wore on the muscles in his face and he realized how deeply wound in a scowl he was.

A platoon made its way across West Street and through the under the pass to Pier 45. They were six – three to a side. They watched every inch of the tunnel through their sites as they approached; left, right, center, front and back.

"We're coming up on the target," the lead announced in a hush.

They surrounded the steps of the trailer and the lead trotted up.

He pounded his fist on the door. "Captain Barnes!"

He waited a few seconds, then turned to his platoon and shook his head. They nodded back to him. He got one hand on the door knob, the other supporting the rifle in firing position. He yanked the handle and whisked in barrel first. He lowered his rifle and stopped, seeing Barnes. He had their back to them, and between his legs the soldier saw Steve.

Barnes turned his puffy, deadpan face to the troops. "Someone clean him up."

The refugees sat under the trees between Weehawken Municipal Court and the 495. Seeing the sun for the first time all day was ultimately exhausting. The shadows of the hollow homes the other side of Gregory Avenue grew long and were almost to their outstretched feet.

"Hey," a tired, gravelly voice called from behind them.

They turned to see Thor emerging from the parking lot. His face fell seeing less than a third of the people he had freed remained. Their eyes looked heavy, they were bruised, they were caught, and most of all they were lost – the shine they had back in New York was gone, almost seeming like they had shrunk. Thor never breaks step and nods for them to follow as he passes.

Night fell as Thor led his band through Newark on the I95. He looked out to the east for Port Newark, but the dusk was too milky. They could still see Newark Airport and in the silence of the evening, intermittent drops could be heard falling on metal debris. Though not flooded, the road was still damp, and there were little puddles that had filled cracks in the Earth.

The I95 met I278 in Elizabeth, just on the southside of Newark. Under the 278 a truck was parked. As they neared, Thor spotted a head in the driver's seat. They looked to the rearview and a face whipped around to confirm what they had seen. The front door opened and Ari hopped out, sprinting towards them. The refugees got in a position braced for combat, but Thor settled them with the wave of his hand. Ari collided with Thor and pressed themselves to them. Thor tenderly reciprocated the hug, but his mind racing at what to say next.

Ari pulled back from the embrace and looked up at Thor.

"Where's Steve?" they said.

"Why aren't you in Manahawkin?" Thor firmly asked.

"Storm of the century came through, I wasn't going anywhere," Ari defended. "Where's Steve?"

Thor grimaced and looked back up the I95. New York was long gone behind the Newark ruins, but he stared on as if he could see right through. His head fell and he sighed in a huff from chest. When he looked back to them, Ari swallowed back tears seeing Thor's fragile face. They looked away for a moment and flicked their nose.

Their eyes fixated on the three people waiting behind Thor. "Who are they?"

"They were the ones in Stark Tower," Thor said. "What's left anyway."

Ari sized up each person, but none eyed them back.

"Fine," Ari wearily concluded, then addressed the refugees. "Hop in the bucket! Let's go!"

Ari marched over to the truck and climbed in as Thor made sure everyone got in safe. He then climbed in shotgun with Ari and they sped off back south.

They followed the Garden State Parkway, turning back into Route 9 just north of the Toms River, back down the coast for Manahawkin. Dusk had completely bled into night and, like little bulbs, stars gradually shined through. The whole drive Ari was silent, constantly wavering between tears and rage. Their arm was rested up on the window and a finger was crunched between their teeth, nearly drawing blood. The refugees were near lifeless with exhaustion, to tired to ask where they were going. They just lay huddled together up against the window. All Thor could look at was the stars, like he was studying a map. They followed Route 9 off the Parkway at Beachwood, bringing them farther east towards the ocean and down the last leg back to town.

They were back in rural territory. Ari settled in their seat a bit, seeming to have tired out from their emotional turmoil. Thor never took his eyes off the stars. That was until the sky rumbled off in the distance. It was steady and sustained, with a palpable bass to it.

"Stop the truck," Thor commanded.

"Hm? What?" Ari said.

"Stop the fucking truck!"

Ari slammed the brakes and Thor immediately leaped out. He desperately tried to trace the sound, but the night was too thick. It only seemed denser against the glare of the headlights over the road. He jogged back up the road a bit to allow his eyes to adjust from the light.

"Thor, where are you going?" Ari called after him.

As Thor chugged along, he got his bearings: he new he was jogging north, and the ocean to his right was east. He stopped as his ears concluded the sound must be coming from the west. He could feel the bass of the rotors in his stomach and chest as he spied the blinking red lights gliding low over the Garden State Parkway. They illuminated just tiny fractions of the large fuselage and wings, but it was enough for Thor to recognize the chopper.

"Fuck," Thor gasped and whirled into a sprint back to the truck. "Get back in the truck! Go!"

"Thor what the fuck is going on!" Ari cried.

"Just get in the fucking truck, let's go!"

They both flew into their seats and slammed the doors.

"What is going on?" Ari demanded.

"We have to get to Manahawkin like now," Thor said, his eyes sifting through the night ahead. "We might already be too late."

Ari frowned then got the truck in gear. They stomped the gas and the truck fishtailed as it squealed off down the rest of the highway.

They cleared the last 15 miles in as many minutes. They screamed past the hillcrests in Barnegat and came up the gradual hill as the horizon before them gained an orange tinge. The tinge became a glow as they summitted the hill. Coming down the hill, their faces were distraught upon the orange glow having become mountains of flames. They sprouted, leaped and roared all across Route 9 and Route 72. The park, the tents, the homes had all been consumed for fuel of the various fires. The night over Manahawkin thickened under the viscous cloud of smoke that hung upon the razed settlement.

Ari slammed the brakes and the truck screeched to a halt. They violently through the shifter into reverse and smashed the gas. The tires wailed and the engine whined as the truck shot backward.

"No, stop, what are you doing!" Thor cried. "We have to help them!"

Ari said nothing as they swung the truck around, jammed the shifter into drive and gunned it back north.

"Ari!"

"There's no one to help!" Ari burst. "No one!" They settled themselves on a shaky breath. "It's just–we're done, that's it."

Thor floundered as he tried to come up with anything to say. But soon he was back in the frost of the shadow. He went dumb; any words to be found were lost in the dark. And so he cried, as there was nothing else to do.


	14. Epilogue

The trailer at Pier 45 had been secured and a disposal team was sent to collect the shield, as was protocol. They had driven it to a storage unit on the mainland a few hours outside New York with the other sacrilegious items needing to be contained after the war. The unit amounted to an old, wooden shed standing about a storey tall. It was off a highway, down a small dirt road in a forest whose sole purpose was to shepherd whoever had wound up on inventory duty that month.

By March, the snow had begun to melt and the road had become a muddy quagmire. By the beginning of May it was all gone, but instead had been replaced by a few vicious rainstorms, disrupting the scheduled inventory days as the road kept getting washed out. The climate settled by June, the road drying out but in rougher shape, and by the middle of July New York state was in the middle of a second heatwave.

There wasn't a cloud in the sky as the Gennisian truck made its approach along the highway, winding around hills and coniferous forests. The sun in some places had made the colours of the earth brilliant and lush, and in others the colour had burnt away. The truck sailed past a handful of fields and clearings with noticeable patches of brown. The driver had set back in his seat, guiding the truck along, cruise control engaged the first chance he got. He had an old pre-war Post Malone album low on the speakers, competing with the wind flapping through the open windows.

"Cycle, this is Dispatch, can I get a sitrep?"

Cycle lazily clutched the mic off his radio. "Dispatch, this is cycle. Five clicks out from Toybox."

"Roger that."

He set the mic back and readjusted comfortably in his seat. He rested his one arm up on the window sill, maintaining course with a few fingers draped on the wheel.

"Cycle, this is Dispatch, come in."

Cycle rolled his eyes, smiling out the side of his mouth. "This is Cycle."

There was a pause on the other end.

"Dispatch, you there?"

"Yeah, Jack, I'm here," she said. "Just waiting for the brass to move off my shoulder. But is that Post Malone I'm picking up?"

Jack chuckled heartily. "Yeah, yeah."

"God, I haven't heard Posty in, like, 40 years," she said with a touch of a swoon.

Jack felt light in his seat as he glided passed the encroaching hills. "Yeah, guess someone'd been stashing his last album in the glove compartment."

A heavier silence soon set in over the line, though no one wanted to hangup. It hung in the air, obliging someone to say something.

"Any news on Barnes?" Jack finally said.

"Nothing," Dispatch said.

"Didn't find anything in the thaw?"

"I think it's more the rains washed out any leads we had."

"I doubt he survived the winter." Jack sighed bitterly as the silence set in again, satisfied.

"We'll get him," Dispatch said. "Everyday that goes by, he's got fewer places to hide."

"Yeah, roger that," Jack said in a bittersweet cheer.

The sun was hidden behind the trees and hills as Jack rounded the last bend before the turn. He swung the truck onto the dirt road. He scanned and left and right as he began the kilometer and a half drive in.

"Dispatch, this is Cycle. Arriving at Toybox: two-seven-oh-seven."

"Roger that, Cycle."

The pines had grown so close together, creating nearly a wall in combination with the bountiful underbrush. The forest was void of any movement, not even a wandering chipmunk. Jack swiveled his head in a glance out the rear window, the road behind as empty and still as the road ahead. The truck emerged from the treeline into the clearing where the road wound its way to the shed. He kept the truck at a creep on approach, his eyes constantly oscillating from mirror to mirror to mirror.

"Cycle, this is Dispatch. Be advised, Toybox isn't picking up."

"Roger that, Dispatch. Looking like nobody's home here."

"Roger. Proceed with caution."

"Copy."

Jack came upon the entrance checkpoint, a hundred meters out from the shed. One arm was up on the gate mechanism and the guard boxes were empty. Jack's eyes caught two lumps in the road and he settled the truck to a stop off to one side. He grabbed his ACR out of the center console holster and hopped out. He held it in a ready position as he treaded lightly toward the two bodies in a heap at the gate.

"Dispatch, this is Cycle, 10-33 at the gates. Request backup."

"Say again, Cycle?"

"I say again, 10-33. Someone's taken out the welcome wagon."

"Roger that." Her breath waivered for a moment. "Proceed with caution, backup's on the way."

"Copy."

Jack strode into the clearing, his gait long and low. He pivoted at his waist, firmly planted behind the gun. The grass flittered in a light breeze that just blew the stale, cooked air around. The treetops were still right to their bases. As he neared the shed, he spied breaks in the grass around the shed; more lumps on the ground. He soon noticed the front of the shed peppered with entry holes and the windows shattered.

He ducked down and scurried up onto the porch under the window sill. He waited for any movement that might indicate a response. The wood never creaked or whined about any company. He glanced over his shoulder out to the grass. He could identify one lump, and by deduction all, as slain personnel.

"Drop the weapon and on the fucking ground!!" Jack barked as he popped up into the window, rifle armed.

His finger sprung to the trigger, but he quickly realized he was only threatening to shoot dust fluttering in thin darkness. He flicked on the taclight and swept over the interior. The light grazed weaponry and other equipment from the war: arrows, armor, expensive scrap metal. He hopped off the porch and did a sweep around the cabin. He carefully danced over the bodies in the grass and swept the treeline.

"Dispatch, this is Cycle. Area clear."

He heard her breathe in relief before she spoke. "Roger that. What's the status on Toybox?"

"Standby."

Jack marched back over to the shed and shouldered his way through the front door. He swept his light over the contents of the shed again. Arrows, armor, expensive scrap metal, assorted firearms, tactical gear, an on-body flight vehicle.

"Shit," Jack grumbled, fumbling on his shoulder for his radio. "Dispatch, this is cycle, we're missing Spangled and December."

"Roger that," she said, shaky.

"Heading back to the truck to wait for a cleanup crew."

"Roger. ETA, 45 minutes."

Jack strolled through the afternoon heat, sizzling with cicadas back down the dirt road. He popped open the door and set his rifle in the holster then shed the layers of his gear. He climbed in the driver's side then reached over and popped the passenger door. He settled back in his chair and pulled the mic off the dash radio to his sweaty face.

"Hey, Dispatch, come in."

"Go ahead, Cycle."

Jack paused with his thumb on the call button. He stared forlornly at the shed. He glanced over each of his mirrors. The stillness of the forest made each individual note of ambiance exponentially louder.

"Cycle? You there?"

"Yeah, uh, I was just gonna say: think it's Barnes?"

Her end was silent now. He guessed she was feeling the same fears in her stomach he was.

"He's an old man," Dispatch finally said. "Probably barely hanging on at this point."

"Doesn't matter if he finds Thor," Jack said.

"So we kill him and Thor goes his merry way again."

"And what city do we lose next in the process? How many more lives? I mean, we just lost a whole guard team, Jen."

"What are you trying to say, Jack?"

Jack set his head back and looked over the clearing down his nose. He swallowed and licked his lips, his throat feeling tight and dry.

"Nothing," he said. "Lemme know when backup's close."

"Copy. Out."

He set the mic back on the radio and switched it off. He shut the doors, straightened up in his seat and started up the truck.


	15. Thank you for reading!

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed!

If you did, go check me out on Wattpad @Tbengert!


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